Silver Bullet
by Clez
Summary: The League find themselves drawn into a new mission, one with intrigue and adventure, and a potential threat to their young American friend, Tom Sawyer. Can they realise the danger in time, or will they have their hands too full to realise?
1. End of The Line?

**Author's Note: **This is my first LXG fic, and it was too tempting in my head to resist, so I gave in. Don't look at me like that, okay? Just stay with me, and I swear you won't regret it. Anyway, reviews are much appreciated, and they will be the fuel that will spur the rest of the story on. Also, feel free to correct any glaring mistakes I make. I'd appreciate it.

**Disclaimer: **I'm only doing one big one, okay? :P. I do not own League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, no matter how much I really want Sawyer *sigh* Not fair... As I was saying; they are not mine, I did not come up with them, if I did, I would be extremely well of, and not writing this for a start :). The only two characters so far that are mine are Evans and Jacques... you'll see...

* * *

            His long black travelling coat billowed gently in the night time London breeze, the chill biting at his exposed face, and the hand that firmly grasped his Winchester rifle. The other hand was buried deep in his coat pocket, protected from the bite of the weather around him. His hat was down turned slightly at an angle so as to partially cast his youthful face in shadow. Soulful green eyes watched the streets from beneath the peak, and a sigh escaped him.

            What was taking so long? He was growing impatient with simply hanging around. It was neither his style nor his pace. It didn't suit him in the least. 

            Just then, as he was considering making his way back to the rendezvous point, a bat fluttered past... then another, and then dozens more as a large group. A form lurked in the middle of the animals, and an involuntary shudder travelled down the spine of Tom Sawyer, American Secret Service Agent.

            Wilhelmina Harker winked at him, and then was gone, her otherworldly bats along with her. There was a faint fluttering, and then all was still.

            But not for long, Tom knew. Mina had been just the signal that he had been so patiently waiting for. There was the distant clattering of hooves, and the accompanying rattling of carriage wheels.

            Not long after, he saw the transport amble past him at a brisk pace, and he took off after it at a stealthy jog. He kept his shaded eyes on the target. He didn't want to lose them. The League had been carefully tracking the man for little over a month.

            The carriage pulled to an eventual halt outside of an alleyway, one that Tom knew very well let to a concealed doorway he had seen used two nights previous.

            Now his part was over for the time being. It was the turn of another. Tom knew they should be here any minute; it was just a matter of where.

            "Dammit," he hissed as something intangible brushed by him, "Skinner, I told you not to do that!"

            There was a chuckle that seemed to come from nowhere, shortly before a cheeky cockney accent responded, "Sorry, Sawyer, mate... too good to resist." There was a slight pause. "Ah, I see it's my turn. Remember to be ready in case I bungle it, right?"

            "Don't 'bungle' it, Skinner. We went over this three times already. It should be easy." Tom raised his eyebrows in a warning, and checked his rifle, feeling his twin pistol holsters at his waist.

            "All right, no need to get testy."

            A tall, imposing man stepped mysteriously from the carriage, carrying a bag in one hand, and an umbrella in the other.

            Tom nodded towards the man they knew to be called Charles Evans, and said, "Okay, Skinner, you're up. Be careful."

            "Oh, Tom, I didn't know you cared," Skinner quipped, and then took off swiftly into the alleyway after Evans.

            Tom heard him go, watching the disappearance of their target, recalling their minor adventure so far. They had been contacted by a trustworthy agent of the British Empire, and informed that a man -the man Skinner had just followed- was planning to deal with assassins and play one world leader off another, killing them one at a time in a feeble -somewhat unoriginal- attempt to break down the strength of large countries or ones with power, such as England and America. 

            Anyway, the _League of Extraordinary Gentlemen_ -or rather what was left of them- had agreed to this request that they put a stop to the dealing by any means necessary.

            Charles Evans was now planning to deliver payment to these apparent assassins before their plans to kill the Queen fell firmly into place. So far, no one had been hurt.

            Tom hoped it stayed that way.

* * *

            Rodney Skinner, gentleman thief, realised what he had done all too late. The assassin had detected his presence, and notified the others of this fact.

            Now Charles Evans was making a rather hasty, and cowardly retreat out of the door with the money. Silly bugger left his brolly though, not that he'd need it.

            Rodney knew they'd be mad, they always got mad at him... _always_. If it wasn't one thing, it was another.

            He trotted after Evans down the stairs, and saw him slip out of the concealed doorway. Skinner guessed Sawyer had seen him when he heard the rifle firing three times in succession. 

            Rodney poked his head out, noticing no bloody body lying on the floor, and deduced the American had missed.

            Rodney emerged from the alley in time to see Evans push the driver off the carriage and whip the two horses into a run, quickening his retreat.

            Dammit, where was Hyde?

            "Sawyer!" Skinner yelled, even as the young agent sprinted out of the alleyway opposite quickly, and took off up the cobble road after Evans.

* * *

            He _knew_ Skinner would mess this up. Why had he trusted him to go in there? Not that it had been an individual decision in any case. The others had agreed to it as well.

            His legs were burning painfully now, and his breath was coming in short gasps as his slowly ran out of strength.

            His eyes caught sight of a foolishly unattended saddled horse, and against his better judgement, Tom ran up to it, untied it and mounted the animal. He only then noticed his hat was missing... it had probably fallen off back in the alleyway. He had slung his rifle over his shoulder upon emerging from the hiding place though.

            Tom gave the horse a swift kick in the sides, and it leapt forward, just as its owner decided to poke his lazy head out of an alley, still fastening his pants hurriedly.

            Tom suppressed a laugh, as he yelled over his shoulder, "You'll get it back!"

            "You cheeky bastard! That's my horse!"

            _Well obviously_, thought Tom sarcastically as he turned the horse sharply around a corner, the carriage coming back in to view. At least he hadn't lost it.

            Where the _hell_ was Hyde?

            Tom knew for a fact that the monstrous Mr Hyde should have reared his rather ugly head the minute Evans had passed the mouth of that alley if something had gone wrong. Well in any case, he should have been there waiting, and he hadn't been.

            The dark horse he rode travelled at a risky gallop, the damp cobbles underfoot treacherously slippery to the shoes on the animal's feet. Tom was wary taking corners.

            The carriage made a sharp right turn ahead, and Tom futilely yelled at the animal he rode to speed it up. It whinnied and snorted, perhaps catching a whiff of something it didn't like.

            Tom's eyes cast about the rooftops for Hyde.

            He looked back to the road and realised he needed to turn urgently, and yanked hard on the reins, tearing the horse's head to the right, the rest of the neck and body following not long after. For one terrifying moment, Tom felt the horse skid badly, and thought it was going to fall, but it righted itself and they were soon galloping up behind the carriage.

            The horse charged on harder and faster, and before long Tom found himself level with the body of the carriage, moving up towards where Evans was sitting.

            He ducked instinctively upon reaching the front of the carriage, even as the bullet exploded out of the pistol aimed roughly and hurriedly at where his head should have been.

            When his head came back up, his dishevelled dirty blonde hair partially covering his eyes, Tom brought one of his own guns up with him, firing it. The bullet slammed into the wood of the carriage inches from Evans, who started violently. He was so shocked that he conveniently dropped his own firearm.

            Tom fired his gun again, this time seeing it graze Evans' arm badly. The man gave a cry, and jumped haphazardly and desperately from the carriage. The horses kept going.

            He pulled back on the reins, gun still in his hand, feeling the horse lurch to one side. Its footing failed, and it went down in a frightened heap. Tom managed to shift himself from the saddle in time to jump and roll to safety, avoiding being crushed.

            The horse scrambled back upright again, seemingly unharmed, but Tom had already taken off at a run after Evans. The short ride had given his legs time to recover, and his speed and strength had returned to him.

            Alleys again... why was it always alleyways?

            He stopped running, drawing his left pistol, holding both at the ready should he need them. He had the feeling he was going to.

            There was a shadow in the darkness up ahead, and Tom aimed both guns squarely at it, recognising it as Evans.

            "End of the line," he said quietly, and with a subtle triumph.

            There was a gentle laugh that somewhat quashed Tom's sense of victory.

            "Yes, my boy, end of the line," chuckled Evans in a very eloquent way, "but not for me."

            And that was when Tom felt the barrel of a gun run through the hair at the back of his head, and he swallowed. He had walked right into a trap.

            Evans stepped into the wan streetlight now, smug grin clear on his pale face. His ice blue eyes were alight with amusement. 

            "Lower the guns," a voice behind Tom said, practically a growl, gruff and low, perhaps even foreign.

            Tom obeyed, lowering his weapons slowly so that they were no longer pointed at Evans' chest.

            "That was foolish of you," Evans sighed. "I would have thought one of your freaky supernatural 'friends' would have accompanied you."

            From out of the darkness behind Evans loomed a figure, much larger and more imposing than any seen previously that evening.

            Overhead, a bat fluttered.

            Tom smiled.

            "What are you grinning about, boy? You find the prospect of your own death amusing?"

            Tom stared at Evans, still smiling. "Not particularly. The fact that I'm _far_ from alone is what I find amusing." He nodded to the shape behind Evans. There was a deep rumbling snarl.

            The man turned, and gasped.

            Mr Hyde stomped forward, baring his teeth threateningly.

            "Your friend with the gun to my head might wanna take a peek over his shoulder too."

            There was a moment of silence before the low voice grumbled, "The vampire..."

            Evans saw Mina too now, it seemed, and he practically barked his next word, something Tom made out to be a name; "Jacques!"

            Before he could do anything to stop it, Tom felt himself physically torn from where he stood, a hand latching onto and in the back on his coat, hurling him backwards and sending him flying through the air before he collided forcefully with Mina, who gasped.

            Tom winced and opened his eyes, looking to where he had been standing moments before.

            "What the hell..."

            Mina looked up from beside him now, and her delicate brow knitted in twin confusion.

            There, before them, half cast into shadow and gloom was a shaggy towering form of a man, shreds of clothing hanging off of him, much in the style of Hyde, who could now be seen facing off his unusual opponent.

            "What _is_ that thing?" Tom asked of his vampire companion.  

            She shook her beautiful head. "I do not know."

            There was then a rushing of action in which taloned claws and razor teeth slashed and snapped at Hyde, yellow eyes flashing. 

            The monstrous bulk that was Hyde thrust his own body backward to avoid being struck, and swung a mighty arm out, pummelling it into the strange thing that was trying to attack.

            Whatever it was received the full force of the blow in the stomach, and they were sent careening through the air, over the ducking figures of Tom and Mina, crashing into the street.

            Something not too dissimilar to the cry from a pained animal emanated from it, and shortly after, it gathered itself to its feet and sprinted off with a speed Tom had never seen.

            Tom's eyes met Mina's, and then both glanced back at Hyde.

            There was something else too. Tom groaned.

            "What happened to Evans?"


	2. Dinner Date

**A/N: **Well here you have it, another chapter. I actually wrote this because I was so bored, and it took me a good few hours to do.  I'm glad you guys like my characterisations. I find Tom really comfortable to do... I'm not sure why. Maybe because he is the closest to my age. Skinner is fun too. You can guarantee more of him in this. Anyway, this is more of a pensive character. Hope it doesn't disappoint too much. Thanks to Imogen Brown, who helpfully corrected me on the colour of Tom's eyes. Thanks, Imogen! :)

* * *

            Captain Nemo stood at the dock, a dozen of his crew around him, awaiting a signal that the rest of the League had apprehended the perpetrator. He had been waiting for quite some time now. 

            No signal came. No matter how patient he was, no signal came.

            "Look, Captain," came the voice of a crewman to his left, and his eyes followed the pointing finger of the man. What he saw made his heart sink. They had failed.

            Walking at the forefront of the group was Agent Tom Sawyer, his Winchester rifle and his hat in his hands, his eyes downcast and an angry look on his face. Following right behind him was Mina Harker. She looked pensive and confused, and cast a glance warily over her shoulder as though expecting something to leap out at them. Behind Harker was Dr Jekyll, looking very intrigued indeed. Clearly something had interested him, but also frightened him too from the looks of it. His eyes were slightly wider than normal. Bringing up the rear was Skinner, or rather the coat and trilby that symbolised Skinner's presence when he wished to be seen. The hat was angled downwards as though he were ashamed to be seen... or not seen as the case was. 

            Something had gone wrong.

            "Where is Evans?" Nemo asked of them as they approached the ramps to enter the gigantic exposed submarine that was the Nautilus. Sawyer did not speak as he paced gloomily up the ramp, and disappeared.

            Mina Harker looked after him with disappointment, as though feeling sympathy for -by far- the youngest member of the League.

            "What happened?" inquired Nemo, growing slightly impatient now with his lack of answers.

            "It all went to pot, didn't it?" Skinner replied bluntly. "We messed it up... or rather _I_ messed it up."

            With that, the long leather coat and trilby paced into the ship as well.

            Mina and Jekyll were all that remained outside the submarine, and both looked considerably thoughtful.

            "We will explain at dinner," Mina offered, her voice smooth and controlled as always, surprising given her vampire identity. Nemo always expected her to growl her words, not speak them flawlessly and eloquently as she did. It amazed him how gentle she was.

            Nemo nodded at this offer, and made his way inside his vessel to inform his crew that the others had returned.

* * *

            Tom Sawyer resisted the urge to slam the door to his quarters behind him, instead settling for kicking it closed as he entered. He knew he looked like he had just lost something dear to him, but in truth he was disappointed with himself. He always seemed to screw something up somehow. Why could nothing ever go right when he was involved? Why was he always in a world of trouble?

            It was still a marvel to him that he had been selected for involvement in the agency. The amount of screw-ups he managed made him wonder why they hadn't kicked him out on his ass yet.

            Sighing, he slung his hat at the coat rack, watching it bounce off. He frowned. He had never managed to do that like Skinner. He practically tore off his coat after carefully laying down his Winchester rifle, and tossed the jacket on his bed. He followed it not long after, landing heavily on the mattress, and hearing the springs creak.

            Tom stared at the ceiling above him, thoughts running through his head.

            It went back to the one thing it always did, the same mental image appearing in his mind... Quatermain... dead.

            Allan Quatermain had been a good friend to him, and he had taught him many important things... not to mention saving his life twice.

            Whilst Tom had been at the mercy of an invisible man he had foolishly mistaken for Skinner, Quatermain had selflessly turned from his own opponent -M, or the Fantom, whatever you wanted to call him... something about Moriarty too- and shot Tom's captive. 

            His sniping skills had always startled Tom.

            Whilst Quatermain's back had been turned, M had stabbed him rather dishonourably. Quatermain had died not long after, but not before Tom had managed to kill his murderer.

            Tom remembered the funeral. He had stayed around the grave the longest, holding one of his rifles, modified rifles... American style, or so he recalled telling Quatermain. He had left that very gun on top of his friend's grave.

            He smiled wanly at the memory that soon flittered out of his mind, and frowned again, even as he heard the Nautilus shifting, felt her movements as they made their way out of the London docks.

            Now what where they going to do? Evans had evaded them, three of them at once! And he had some sort of mutant companion with him on top of that... a very strong one to boot.

            Tom recollected being literally picked up and hurled through the air, and with only one hand he knew. That had been all he'd felt clutch him. The other hand of the attacker had held a gun. Where had all that strength come from? Not to mention the hair.

            There was a gentle rapping of a knock on his door, and he bolted into a sitting position at once, startled slightly. He called to the door, "Who is it?"

            "It's me, Jekyll," came the reply of the voice. Sure enough, from the sound of it, it was the good doctor himself. There was always such certain sincerity to his tone and words that assured Tom.

            Tom sighed, and ran a hand through his messy blonde hair to try and clear it from his face. It tumbled back over his brow and into his eyes, and he ignored it. "Come in," he said to the door.

            It creaked open, and Doctor Henry Jekyll stood framed in the light of the doorway. Tom only then realised he had neglected to turn the light in his room on. 

            "I... I just came to tell you," Jekyll began rather timidly, before finishing with more confidence, "that dinner will be ready in ten minutes."

            "I'm not hungry," Tom mumbled, sitting perched on the end of the bed now, his elbows rested in a defeated manner on his knees in front of him. He stared at the floor.

            Jekyll stepped into the room a little, hands behind his back, changed now into a suit as always. Tom had no doubt Nemo's tailors had to be having a ball with accommodating the doctor's clothing needs.

            "Well it's best you come along anyway," the other man told him gently. "Maybe you'll feel differently when it comes to it."

            Tom looked up at an angle to Jekyll, raising an eyebrow, and smiling lopsidedly. Jekyll was usually quite positive, or so it seemed, when matters that concerned Hyde were left unmentioned.

            "I can't believe I let him get away..."

            Jekyll sighed lightly, glancing over his shoulder, before shutting the door, and activating a table lamp to his right. The light glowed from under the shade and cast shadows across the room, and over Jekyll and Tom's faces.

            "It wasn't just you out there, Tom," Jekyll assured him, "I was there as well. I should have seen him escape."

            "You had your hands full."

            "And you had a gun to your head if I remember correctly."

            Tom glanced at Jekyll again, and laughed quietly. "Why does nothing ever dampen your spirits?"

            "Because I've had enough misery and darkness in my life, Agent Sawyer, and now it's time for a little light." He tapped the lampshade knowingly, and nodded to him once before exiting the room.

            Tom watched him go, narrowing his eyes and puzzling over what he meant.

* * *

            Wilhelmina Harker sat down in her tall backed dinner chair around the long table, and took a sip from her glass of wine. She savoured the sweet taste, and forced down the urge for something more suitable for her own kind.

            No, she would have no blood this evening, and the human part of her was satisfied with this, was curious to see what Nemo's chefs had concocted this evening.

            Nemo, of course, was already at the head of the table, dressed presentably in his usual garments of blue and white, his ornamental -and very practical- sword rested at his belt in its scabbard, and he was silent.

            Mina herself had chosen a white blouse that buttoned all the way up to her throat. She did not enjoy showing off the wounds that had turned her into the creature she was today. A long black skirt covered her legs, and her hair was pinned up out of her face.

            Next to arrive was Doctor Jekyll, neat and crisp in his black and white suit as ever, smiling slightly to himself. He nodded to Nemo, greeted Mina with a polite charm, and seated himself to the right of the captain on the curve of the table. He unfolded his napkin, and laid it across his lap tidily, shifting his cutlery ever so slightly on each side of his place setting.

            After a moment or two, the long coat and hat that was Skinner walked in, but this was dinner, and a time when the thief decided that it be best for people to see him. He had covered his face and neck in the white cream, and dark glasses covered the holes where his eyes had once been. Skinner threw a cheeky smile towards her, patted Jekyll on the back, stated Nemo's name as he always did, and took his seat to the right of Mina. He removed his hat, and placed it on the table to the side of him.

            The last to arrive, somewhat pensively and brooding was Tom Sawyer, his handsome young face serious. His green eyes took in the faces around the table, before he shuffled into his seat opposite Mina. She smiled at him, and he forced it back at her. Something was troubling him. He hadn't bothered to change, which did not surprise or bother Mina. He wore black trousers and waistcoat, where his twin pistols hung in their holsters at his waist, easily accessible in an emergency. He wore his trademark white shirt beneath the unbuttoned waistcoat, the sleeves rolled up just past his elbows. At least he had made some effort to try and tidy his tousled hair, for what little good it did him.

            "Thank you for coming," Nemo said to them politely, and after that, his crew walked out of the door behind him from the kitchens and set their food down in front of them.

            Tom and Skinner eyed theirs curiously as it was set down in front of them. Skinner even looked a little uncertain. His dark glasses turned to Nemo. The captain smiled.

            "It is quite safe, Mr Skinner," Nemo assured him, taking a hold of his wine glass. "It is simply a spicy native dish. If you require something more your style, I can have it-"

            "No, no, Nemo, that's quite all right," Skinner insisted, holding up a gloved hand, and taking a grip on his fork, poking at his food.

            Jekyll looked delightfully curious, and smiled. "I think it looks delicious." He cast a certain glance at Tom, who had his elbows rested on the tabletop.

            Mina made no move to correct him. He always did eat that way. At least he didn't chew with his mouth open, and he _did_ use a napkin. With her habits having been seen by the companions around her, it took quite a bit to put her off her food, and by her standards, Tom Sawyer was a very polite young man.

            Nemo raised his glass to them briefly, sampled his wine, and began his meal, the others around him doing the same, or something similar.

            Tom was still picking at his food, shifting it around his plate when Nemo decided to speak, his own meal finished.

            "So, tell me, what transpired in the city? What happened to Charles Evans?"

            Tom shuffled in his seat as though uncomfortable, and drank some of his wine, making the effort to eat a little of his food afterwards. Maybe it was simply too spicy for him.

            Mina made the effort to answer, "I followed Mr Evans from his home, where a driver picked him up and took him by carriage to the alleyway where Sawyer was waiting. We had already deduced he was to pay the assassins tonight, so we knew very well what his intentions were and what he carried in his bag. I gave the signal to Tom, and waited on the rooftops for any sign of trouble."

            Her light eyes met the face of Tom, who cleared his throat, and spoke; "I followed the carriage a little way down the road where I met Skinner. I told him to go inside with Evans."

            It was Skinner's turn. "I followed him down the alley, and up to the concealed doorway Sawyer found a couple of days ago, and slipped in with him. He met the assassins inside and well... they knew I was there."

            "And how did they know?" Nemo asked of him.

            "I sorta... may have... knocked a vase over," Skinner muttered shamefully.

            Tom looked to him in disbelief. 

            "Anyway," Skinner continued quickly before the young man could chide him, "the one that saw me do it alerted the others, even though I caught the bloody thing before it broke, and they all made a run for it. I followed Evans down the stairs, and out of the alley, where-"

            "I shot at him."

            "And he missed," Skinner finished, avoiding the glare Tom threw at him. "Well he was moving pretty fast, don't worry about it." Tom turned his attention back on his cooling food. "I told him to run after him once he'd gotten on the carriage. Which reminds me," the white face found Jekyll, "you were nowhere to be found."

            "For your information, Mr Skinner, Edward Hyde is no easy monster to control. I was trying to suppress the urge to do other than what was required. Would you rather you found him gorging on some poor drunk?"

            Skinner fell quiet, and glanced to Tom once again.

            The agent took up the cue, "I ran after him, and when I caught up with him, I managed to-"

            "You caught up with the carriage?" Nemo interrupted. "How did you manage such a thing?"

            Tom shook his head, closing his eyes even as locks of blonde hair fell across them. "I stole a horse."

            "You stole a horse?" Skinner said.

            "Yes, and I rode after him." Tom and Skinner stared at each other for a long time before the latter found his wine interesting again. "He took a shot at me, and I fired back. I got him in the arm. He jumped off the carriage, the horse fell over, and I ran after him into an alleyway."

            Nemo looked as though he was trying to decipher Sawyer's rushed form of explanation as best he could. He nodded as Tom spoke.

            "I pulled my guns on him, but he wasn't alone. Someone pulled a gun on me, and that's when Hyde and Mina showed up."

            "I had finally managed to re-convince Hyde that devouring stragglers on the streets was not our priority, and he smelt something foul on the air, something he hadn't smelt before. It led us to Sawyer and his dilemma."

            Skinner seemed as though he was suppressing a snigger. Mina elbowed him, and he became serious once again.

            "I heard the three of them from the rooftops, and arrived within moments," Mina offered earnestly. She remembered sensing something odd, and hearing the two gunshots before everything had gone still. It hadn't taken her long to locate Tom, in trouble, and she had taken it upon herself to come to his aid, coincidentally at the same time as Hyde. "I came up behind Tom's mystery attacker. He alerted them to our presence, and well, the one with the gun on Tom... he..." She was unsure of how to describe it.

            "He threw me," Tom explained simply.

            "Threw you?"

            "With one hand."

            "With one hand?" Nemo was perplexed, this was clear.

            "I felt the hand grab my coat, and he threw me onto Mina. The... _thing_ that had had the gun on me tried to attack Hyde."

            Jekyll nodded. "I remember trying to figure out what it was whilst it lashed out at Hyde. The eyes were so feral, it was like a wild animal."

            "That was how it seemed to me." Mina was in agreement.

            "I just know the thing had some strength," Tom mumbled, rubbing his neck seemingly as a subconscious action.

            "Are you injured?" Nemo inquired, seeing him do so.

            Tom shook his head, bringing his arm down to rest on the tabletop as he lay his fork down. "No, I'm fine. Just startled me is all."

            "Hyde managed to fend off the beast, and then it retreated."

            "That was when we noticed Evans was gone. There was no sign of him anywhere," Tom explained in a crushed tone. He sighed quietly, and leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms as if impatient.

            "And that was it?" Nemo asked of them. They nodded and murmured their agreement with his assessment. 

            Jekyll nodded. "He simply vanished. Maybe he had another hidden doorway somewhere that we didn't know about. He seemed to know his way around."

            "And he led me into that alleyway," Tom added, "he knew his friend was down there if I followed."

            "You think he was trying to trick you?" Mina wondered, knitting her brow. She ignored the crewmember that came to remove her plate. Tom waved at his to show he was finished. The table was cleared quietly around them in moments.

            "Yeah. It seemed like he knew what we'd been up to," Tom continued, "he knew about us."

            "He called you by name?" Jekyll inquired.

            "No. Not that obvious. He called me 'my boy'." He looked quite annoyed by this. "And said about my freaky, supernatural 'friends'. That was a hell of a guess if he didn't know about us."

            They sat and pondered over this for a moment, Skinner finishing his wine in silence. Jekyll had a very serious, overly curious look to him now. Nemo turned his head as one of his crew entered, saying, "Captain, we are being contacted by the Empire agent."

             Mina and Tom were the last to leave the room, even after Skinner, who followed Jekyll. Nemo had taken off at a jog. When they met up with him again, he was pondering over a message he had just been given.

            He turned on them, hand rested on the ornate pommel stone of his sword, as he told them, "We are to go to France."


	3. Target Practice

**A/N: **Well, because everyone has been so great and reviewed my story *is chuffed*, I'm going to go ahead and give you chapter 3 now. Just a warning though, don't expect all chapters this quick, it's just cuz I'm so enthusiastic right now. Let's see if we can't keep it that way, huh? :) You Tom angst fans will be pleased  ;)

* * *

            Doctor Henry Jekyll passed some of the time on their journey to France by reacquainting himself with the language. It really was a beautiful dialect, and he was quite fluent in it after spending some time there. The rest of the time that had passed so far was spent in study. He read quite an impressive amount of a book Nemo had offered him. It really was quite intriguing.

            He ignored the grumbling voice in his head that nagged him almost constantly, and turned the page in the enchanting book. Hyde relentlessly tried to distract him and lure him to the elixir when it wasn't needed, but Jekyll's resolve had been stronger of late. He was getting much better at resisting, aided along of course by the fact that Hyde was growing more accustomed to the notion that he wasn't let out whenever he felt like it... he had to be called on, needed as it were.

            Henry didn't want him out unless he needed to be, and that was sporadically of late. They had need of his services here and there, and reluctantly, he let the monster out. 

            He supposed he shouldn't call his other identity a monster; he _had_ saved the entire crew of the Nautilus before, not to mention resisting maiming and killing on several occassions. Hyde appeared to be making quite good progress from the mindless killing machine he had once been. It was almost enough to bring a smile to Henry's face.

            The Nautilus broke the surface of the water some ten minutes later, and not long after this Jekyll had taken it upon himself to stroll the decks of the submarine, smiling politely in his usual manner at the faces he saw. The crew acknowledged him in return, and one even jumped when a loud bang was heard from somewhere way above them.

            Henry's eyes looked up, as though he had the ability to see through the deck-plating overhead. He raised an eyebrow. He knew that noise.

* * *

            Tom called out again, and the familiar noise of the target launching was heard, shortly before his green eyes saw the red sphere fly over the water, landing some measurable distance from the side of the Nautilus.

            He had seized the nearest oppurtunity to practise his skills, and had taken advantage of Nemo's offer of one of his loyal crew to help him do so. The other man did not speak to Tom, simply fired the targets for him when asked.

            Tom aimed the Winchester easily, compensating for the wind and their speed, his eyes narrowing in concentration, his finger lightly squeezing the trigger, slowly at first, a millimetre at a time, until his brain registered, and the gun fired.

            Off in the distance, the target exploded with the impact of the bullet, and Tom called for another almost instantly, readying the gun he favoured so much once more.

            His ears heard the door open and close behind him, but he did not waver from his target as the gun lay perfectly steady on his left hand, his right curled respectively around the finger lever and the trigger, until after a few seconds, he squeezed all the way, and fired the rifle, watching with nonplussed satisfaction as the red sphere was destroyed again.

            "If I may say so, you're getting very good at that," came the male voice from behind him, even as he readied the gun again, his eyes never leaving his weapon. He had practised as much as possible since Allan had died, and he was getting very accustomed to it. It was part of his regular routine. Skinner called it obsessive... Tom called it prepared.

            Tom knew the voice belonged to Henry Jekyll, so even as he called for another target he lifted the gun. He didn't need to divert his eyes to confirm their identity. "What brings you up here?"

            Jekyll came up beside him, but stood a foot or two off from him, so as not to be startled by the noise of the gun when it went off again. "I heard the noise, and recognised it to be your rifle."

            This time though, Tom's eyes did meet Jekyll's, and he blinked once in query.

            "I wondered how it was going... your practise that is," Jekyll informed him. "The last time I came, you were hitting two out of three... it seems you've improved somewhat." He paused. "But then again, you are up here as often as possible."

            "Just trying to hone my skills," Tom said to him, gripping the rifle singularly in his right hand now, letting the barrel fall back onto his shoulder. He cocked his head at the doctor. Surely that wasn't all he was here for.

            Jekyll glanced over the side of the submarine, turning his head to look to the front of the vessel. "Ah, I think I can make out land now. Nemo assured me it would not take long to reach France."

            "Which part of France we headed for anyway?" Tom inquired, realising he did not know. He had neglected to ask.

            "Nemo is directing us towards Paris, my old haunt." Jekyll smiled, and Tom returned it.

            "You miss it?" 

            Jekyll sighed noticeably, his arms behind his back casually once more. "Sometimes. I do prefer London though." He looked Tom in the eye. "But our informant assures us that Evans has fled to Paris, and so we are to follow. I must admit that this man is giving us quite the run around."

            Why did the English have to speak so... so... properly? There was always something to Mina and Jekyll's accents that gnawed at Tom sometimes, and he realised now what it was. They were so prim in their speech. They never cut corners.

            "What do you think he's trying to do in Paris?" Tom asked of his companion, calling for another target afterwards. He lowered and levelled the rifle as the sphere sailed out into the water.

            Jekyll turned to watch as he replied, "I am not sure. Perhaps he had a backup plan in case we discovered his secret meeting place. You did say he seemed to know of us."

            "Yeah, but he might have just _heard_ of us," Tom said quietly, concentrating on his target. "We are building up quite a reputation."

            Jekyll chuckled and nodded to the side of him. "I suppose you're right... I just hope we aren't being played for fools again."

            Tom fired too soon, and the bullet ripped into the water some five feet to the right of the target. He cursed under his breath, and lowered his gaze. He couldn't recall missing in a while. Why now?

            "I'm sorry," Jekyll murmured apologetically, "I didn't mean to-"

            "No, it's okay," Tom assured him with a shake of the head, "everyone misses from time to time, right?"

            Even though he was slightly put off by his own miscalculation, Tom smiled at the doctor, reassuring the man. He didn't want him blaming himself for something that couldn't possibly have been his fault.

            "Yes," Jekyll agreed, "I suppose they do."  

            The door opened partially to reveal the wizened face of Captain Nemo, and he said, "We will be submerging soon. We are drawing up on our destination."

            "Okay, thanks" Tom acknowledged, and Jekyll nodded in a kind of half-bow to show Nemo he understood. The Captain disappeared, but left the door open for them.

            "Down we go," Jekyll quipped light-heartedly, and Tom laughed, following him into the doorway, his Winchester slung over his shoulder again.

* * *

            The darkness that engulfed Paris to symbolise the end of another day came over them so quickly, they didn't even realise it was there until Skinner pointed it out from his place to Sawyer's left at the end of the ramp to the Nautilus whilst they waited for Jekyll and Mina to return from their reconnaissance. 

            Nemo stood at the head of the ramp with his crew all around him, even as running and the fluttering of wings could be heard together, swiftly approaching. Out of the shadows came Jekyll, and appearing in a shroud of bats before them was Mina. She took in a deep breath and closed her eyes, before she met the gaze of Nemo and nodded.

            "We found him," she reported.

            "Great, where is he?" Sawyer demanded, spinning his Winchester around once so that it was ready to fire. He held it in both hands now, eyes staring intently at Mina.

            What was his problem lately? That was all that Skinner could ponder. Ever since Allan had died a little over six months ago, the young man had seemed distant. 

            Mina replied in her usual pensive manner, her words music to Skinner's ears, "He is in the depths of the city. He appears to be conversing with someone, quite possibly our burly friend from before."

            Sawyer made a noise not too dissimilar to a grunt, and nodded, about to head off. Jekyll stood before him. "We need to go in as a team, Tom," he told the young agent, who raised his eyebrows in surprise.

            "You got a plan?" Sawyer inquired curiously, perhaps even with interest.

            Jekyll smiled up at Nemo, who nodded. "The Captain and I have been puzzling over how to snare this man after his most recent escape. We can't very well have him running off again, can we?"

            Sawyer nodded.

            Skinner buried his gloved hands deep in his pockets, and sighed. "So what's this master plan then, Doctor, or are we to be surprised?"

            "We will place ourselves at strategic positions around where Mr Evans has decided to place himself," Nemo informed them upon descending the ramp. They turned to listen attentively. "But not like before. He managed to slip through our grasp. This time we need to have our eyes and ears open and we need our signals ready. This must be perfect if we are to succeed."

            They nodded in agreement. Needless to say, their last plan had been quite the flop. Skinner made sure to pay attention this time, not letting his attention slip for a second.

* * *

            His green eyes surveyed the quiet streets around him, as he stood leaned back against the wall behind him. His favoured Winchester had been left at the Nautilus, much to his chagrin. He was told his two sidearm pistols would be more subtle and appropriate. If Evans passed him by without paying attention, he wouldn't immediately know the identity of the shadowy figure.

            Tom had donned his long coat again, his hat covering his blonde hair once more. His hands were in his pockets, and he seemed to the casual onlooker as innocent and harmless as could be.

            Sighing, he looked up. He could see the stars and the waning moon, but nothing of his companions. He hoped it would go better this time.

            He heard footsteps, and looked discreetly to his right. It was Evans, coming up the street with his crony at his side. He didn't look anywhere near as hairy now, instead like a normal man. Tom frowned. Had he imagined it before?

            _Just your eyes playing tricks on you_, his subconscious chattered. He shrugged it off, and watched from beneath the lowered peak of his hat as they passed him by unawares. He couldn't stop the cheeky grin that crossed his face, and after checking the streets once again, took off after them.

            Tom travelled at a walk some fifteen feet behind them, making sure to be as stealthy as he could. They had decided against the use of Skinner for this task, as the last time his stealth had been required, he had managed to attract attention within minutes.

            As the two walked ahead of him, Tom picked out their conversation.

            "We must be on the alert, Jacques," murmured Evans, and Tom smiled.

            So this _was _the same man as before. The name was identical anyway. Tom doubted it was a coincidence.

            When the man named Jacques spoke in response, it was with a thick French accent, "How can we tell that this League is not following us?"

            "We can't, and that is precisely my point, old friend," Evans reminded him. "They could be lurking around the next corner, waiting for us. Have your wits about you."

            _Forget the next corner_, Tom thought, _try right behind you._

            They turned a bend, and Tom kept close, but not right behind them. He didn't want this Jacques to hear him... he seemed to be good at that.

            But even as Tom turned the corner, something struck him hard in the back of the head, and he fell to his knees, dazed, trying to fight the blackness that threatened him.


	4. Quick Draw

**A/N: **Another original character features in this chapter. She is mine... and you can't have her :P Hehehehe. And just so you know, I LOVE YOU GUYS! You're reviewing SO much, and it's making me so happy! Thanks from the bottom of my heart. I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as the previous, and I'm now off to continue chapter five cuz you're all so great :D Thanks again!

* * *

            Mina's head snapped to her right as her acute senses detected a disturbance. What was it? Something was amiss, and she decided quickly that it needed investigation. She made her way across the rooftops spryly, using her otherworldly swarm of bats to aide her in her progress. 

            It didn't take her long to detect the source of her discomfort. There, getting to his feet at the bend of a street corner down below her was Tom, holding a hand to the back of his head.

            She came down behind him, and he started violently, nearly toppling back over again. "Are you all right? What happened?"

            Tom winced once he realised he was in no immediate danger, and continued to touch a hand to the base of his skull testily. He brought his fingers forward, and sighed. They were clean. 

            "Someone attacked me from behind when I came round the corner," Tom stated with another wince.

            Mina turned him around, and inspected his head for him. He wasn't bleeding at least. For this, she was grateful. She wasn't certain she would be able to contain herself if he had been. It may have been too tempting for her vampire self to resist. That last thing she wanted was to drain Tom dry.

            "Did you see who it was?" Mina pondered, eyes casting about in search of the attacker.

            "No, didn't get a chance," Tom told her, looking in the opposite direction, before bending down to pick up his dislodged hat, holding it in his hand now. "I was following Evans, so maybe it was one of his guys."

            Mina nodded in agreement, shortly before gunshots filled the air. It sounded as though an unwelcome confrontation was transpiring not too far from their present position, and Tom dropped his hat at once, whipping out both pistols.

            "That has to be them," he stated, looking over where it seemed he had been heading before his attack. "Do we have anyone over there?"

            "No, not to my recollection," Mina responded knowingly. No one from the League was in the area where the gunshots had originated. 

            Everything fell silent again. 

            "You go high, I'll go low," Tom said to her briskly, and then took off up the street again, looking here and there warily.

            Mina didn't even have time to acknowledge. She sighed, and made her way back up to the rooftops, her creatures fluttering madly around her as she went.

* * *

            Edward Hyde looked all around him as gunshots erupted for a short time, before everything went quiet and still again. He grunted curiously, and padded across the rooftops to try and locate the source of the disturbance.

            He saw a shadowy form flittering about not too far from him, and recognised it as the vampire, Harker. She was travelling with a sense of purpose, and she even moved straight past him.

            Hyde took it upon himself to follow at a heavy jog, feeling the roof tiles rattle underfoot as he went. It was difficult to keep track of the vampire as she moved, but he kept his eyes on her, knowing this level of the city well enough to only keep a percentage of his concentration on it as he went.

* * *

            His mind raced as he kept hold of the rough direction in which the gunfire had originated, and his pace slowed as he closed in on it. He came to an eventual wary halt, and peered into the darkness.

            _Why is it always dark when I want to check something out?_ Tom thought to himself as he carefully took a step in. So far, so good... no one leapt out at him.  There was a bend up ahead in the darkness, and he made his way towards it. 

            There were spent shell casings on the floor, as though someone had emptied a used revolver, and Tom was careful not to kick any. They would alert someone to his presence. 

            Tom's breath quickened involuntarily in anticipation of what was around the next corner, even as he inched closer and closer to it. He thought he heard something, maybe even sensed it.

            Flattening his back against the wall on the edge of the corner, he listened carefully.

            There was someone there. He could hear them breathing.

            In one fluidic movement, Tom took a wide step from his position, guns rising to a defensive stance, legs wide at the ready, eyes searching the darkness.

            To his surprise, what awaited him was almost a mirror image of himself.

            Twin pistols were aimed squarely at his chest, the person's legs were wide, and a long coat flowed around their calves in the slight breeze that swept through the alley. Steady hands held the guns, but something was slightly off about them... they weren't very masculine.

            In fact, they were as far from masculine as they could be. Tom furrowed his brow curiously, and in a certain state of confusion.

            The person facing him off took a wary step forward, even as he took a mirrored one back. What he saw both stunned and intrigued him.

            Coming into the wan light now was a lean, attractive face. Chocolate brown eyes met his green ones, and locked there inquisitively. She had long brunette hair that cascaded over her feminine shoulders in beautiful waves. She was tall, broaching on his height, and dressed very practically, even wearing pants.

            The two of them stood perfectly still for a while, so silent it seemed that they were holding their breath.

            "Was it you?" she asked with a delicate French edge to her voice. It was clear she was from this country, but obviously she was capable of speaking fluent English. She didn't look to be struggling with her words at all. Her delicate brow knitted slightly as she spoke to him, and her head tilted to one side ever so gently, her hair tumbling around her pretty young face.

            "What are you talking about?" he inquired carefully, having no intention of startling her into firing on him. From the looks of her aim, she would do some serious damage.

            "The man I..." she began, losing the end of her explanation for a moment. "I think I may have jumped you."

            Tom was wary again. The guns did not waver in his hands, stayed steadily aimed at the woman standing before him. Why did she have to be intoxicating?

            "I didn't mean to hurt you," she said to him earnestly, starting to lower her guns simultaneously. "I thought you were with them. When I noticed they did not stop to check on you, I realised I must have been wrong."

            Tom began lowering his own weapons now, brow still furrowed in consideration of her apology. "You know who I was following?"

            "Charles Evans, and Jacques Beauvais. I have been tracking them for two months now, when my government was alerted to their intentions." 

            "Your government?" Tom asked, finding himself intrigued and reassured at the same time. 

            "I work for the French government. I am an agent."

            Tom almost smiled. So she was a good guy... girl... whatever. She wasn't an enemy, she was a potential ally, and she was beautiful. He found it hard to take his eyes off her. 

            She took a step towards him, holstering her pistols in her overcoat skilfully. She held out her hand smoothly. "My name is Anise Delacroix."

            Tom took it, still a little on the alert, and shook it up and down in greeting. "Tom Sawyer, American Secret Service."

            She leaned forward, a pretty smile on her face. "Not so secret now."

            Tom couldn't help but smile back at her, even as there was an almighty thud behind the woman he had just met. Something growled loudly.

            "No, Hyde! It's okay!" Tom yelled, grabbing hold of Anise and pulling her forward away from the man-come-monster. Anise gasped.

            "Are you certain, Tom?" came the feminine, eloquent voice of Mina from behind him. He whirled, as did Anise, and she was stood there expectantly. She threw an unconvinced gaze at Anise.

            "It's fine. She works for the French government. She's an agent like me," Tom assured them, hearing Hyde's wary grumble from behind them. "Look, if she was dangerous, I'd be dead already, right?" He looked at Anise for backup.

            He trusted her... that was all they should have needed.

            "Yes," Anise insisted honestly, a pleading look in her eyes, "I meant him no harm. I did not know his intentions."

            "Besides," Tom continued, realising he may have sounded a little desperate now, "she didn't hurt me too badly, just stunned me."

            "And she can be trusted?" Hyde grumbled from their rear.

            Tom looked up into the savage face of the counterpart for Dr Jekyll and nodded. "I believe her."

            Hyde sniffed at the air for a moment, as if testing it for any signs of deceit, and then said gruffly, "Very well."

            Mina looked less than satisfied, and she paced up to Anise, almost threateningly. "I would be very interested, Miss..."

            "Delacroix," Anise informed her politely.

            "Miss Delacroix," Mina continued, "to hear your side of the story, and what exactly it is you were doing here." Mina narrowed her eyes. "Perhaps you could start by explaining where the gunfire came from."

            Anise sighed. "That was me. I did not mean to concern you. I followed Beauvais and Evans this way, and they detected me. They fired at me, and I returned it. I am almost certain I hit one of them."

            "Evans got himself grazed when I chased him last time," Tom offered as a side note, and Anise looked impressed. He suppressed a smile. He felt his face warm suddenly.

            Hyde came around them, a tight squeeze in the alley, and added, "Well, we have lost track of them once again. Perhaps we should return to the Nautilus."

            "I beg your pardon?" Anise inquired lightly, her accent soothing to the young male agent.

            His shook his head to clear it of the sudden infatuation, and nodded slowly. He glanced to Mina. 

            She sighed. "Very well. She may return with us, but I will be keeping a close eye on our 'guest'." Mina turned abruptly and strode from the alley with Hyde.

            Anise gazed after them, puzzlement clear on her face. "Did I do something wrong?"

            "Nah," Tom said to her gently, leading her out after his companions. "She's just got her hackles raised for no reason. Don't worry about it."

            Anise managed a wan smile, and followed close behind Tom.


	5. Humble Abode

**A/N: **I'd like to thank you guys, once again, for reviewing. I hope you're enjoying reading this as much as I am writing it. Well that said, I thought I'd treat you all to this chapter today, fresh and finished. It's quite tame for the most part, but I hope you like anyway. 

* * *

            There was something about this French 'agent' she did not like nor trust, but from the look on his face, Tom Sawyer was completely smitten, and blind to her caution. He was talking openly with this Delacroix person, laughing and smiling more than Mina had seen out of him in a long time.

            She tried to listen, but her conscience had other ideas. She found herself shutting out their conversation, and letting her thoughts run away with her.

            Before she even knew where the time had gone, the Nautilus had crept into view, or rather exploded into it. The submarine was so vast it was hard to miss. Mina was surprised they hadn't drawn a crowd. She suspected the presence of several Indian sailors had something to do with that.

            They came up to Captain Nemo and his men, and Hyde stomped off into the ship to -as Mina expected at least- become Jekyll once again. For what he was, he was surprisingly fond of his privacy. 

            Tom and Delacroix came up beside Mina, the latter letting her brown eyes wander awestruck over the outside of the Nautilus. She let out a quiet breath of amazement, and smiled at Tom, who grinned mischievously.

            Out of nowhere, a voice called, "Hey, Sawyer, I think you dropped something!"

            That was when a hat mysteriously thrust out in front of Tom, and the young man raised an eyebrow. The young woman beside him gave a little gasp and started visibly.

            _Some agent_, scoffed Mina internally, rolling her eyes at the display.

            Tom took the hat, and said, "Thanks, Skinner. I forgot all about it."

            "No worries, mate," replied the dismembered voice, "just remember that's twice I've returned it. Might not be so lucky next time."

            "What..." began Delacroix in wonder, "how..."

            "Oh," Tom realised with a smile, waving at the spot where his hat had come from, which he now held loosely in his other hand, "this is Rodney Skinner. He's... well, he's invisible."

            "So I see," Delacroix breathed, her eyes wide.

            "Or not, as the case may be," Skinner quipped proudly, and chuckled. "Would someone mind passing me a coat? It's quite nippy out here."

            Mina snatched one from the sailor standing next to her, who had been patiently holding Skinner's, and threw it at him. "There. Is that better?"

            Tom threw a quizzical look to Mina, and raised an eyebrow, his smile lost.

            Mina sighed to herself, and gazed to the coat Skinner was putting on. "Perhaps you should make yourself an invisible suit, Mr Skinner, that way we could all do without your constant reminders of your nudity."

            Tom widened his eyes in surprise now; as she was sure Skinner did too. Delacroix looked very confused, but Mina shrugged it all off, and made her way into the Nautilus.

* * *

            Anise Delacroix felt very content inside for the first time in months as the handsome young man called Tom Sawyer showed her around. He was very sweet, had the most enthralling green eyes, and a certain mischief to his cheeky smile that made her heart flutter ever so slightly when she saw it aimed at her.

            He pointed out random things, checking over his shoulder here and there in case they were being watched. The strange ominous woman had done nothing but suspect her since her arrival, and Anise felt more than a little unwelcome. The man they had introduced as Captain Nemo had been most reluctant to share the secrets of his vessel, and now she could understand why. It was truly a magnificent submarine.

            As Tom talked away, mostly it seemed to himself as though he were uncertain, Anise listened, and her mind raced. Why did he have to look so appealing in his casual attire? She knew he had intended to look somewhat like a gentleman in the way he dressed, but to her, he seemed to have accomplished a look that was utterly unique... not that she considered this an entirely bad thing.

            He still wore his twin pistols at his waist, as she did beneath her coat. She was unwilling to remove it as of yet, and she wasn't sure why.

            But one thing ate at her more than anything... she had never quite met anyone like Tom Sawyer, and she had come to a tough fork in her mind. She knew she had only just met him, and that she shouldn't be feeling anything concrete so soon, but the question that ate at her was this; should she, French government agent, allow herself to fall for this charming and brave American counterpart? Or, should she, as her subconscious chattered, just do what she had been sent out to do?

            "And I think that's everything," cut Tom's voice through her thoughts, and her eyes darted into his gaze. He was smiling again. Was he always so happy?

            Anise let her eyes wander the space around her, even as the words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them, "And where do you sleep, Agent Sawyer?"

            His green eyes stared, and his smile fell as though she had stunned him into silence. She giggled despite herself, immediately embarrassed. She was acting like nothing more than a love-struck schoolgirl.

            "Where do I..." he began, stammering slightly, "where do I sleep?"

            "Yes," she agreed, nodding with a smile, "I take it you _do_ sleep?"

            He nodded, a little too vigorously. He winced ever so slightly, and tentatively touched the back of his head with his right hand, the left hooked in his holster.

            "Oh my," she mumbled, filled with guilt all of a sudden, "I am so sorry."

            He held up his left hand after removing it from the edge of the holster, and smiled lopsidedly. "Nah, it's fine. Don't worry about it." He lowered both hands, and then added, "I've had worse."

            Anise realised how much concern must have filled her expression when Tom suddenly blurted, "But it's fine, you know? I'm used to it."

            She laughed as he tried to fix this further error; "I mean, it's not like I'm accident prone or anything, it's just-"

            "Tom," she interrupted, "I understand. I know just how you feel." She smiled earnestly, "When I was a child, I always managed to get into trouble."

            Tom's face lit up. He looked so innocent, even as he replied, "Me too." He grinned with childish enthusiasm. 

            Anise laughed softly. Everything went quiet after that, and certain awkwardness filled the air around the two. Tom's attention wandered, before suddenly he said, "Oh, right... where I sleep."

            Anise followed him as he walked, reminding herself that staring was unladylike, and she should desist at once. She was being rude, but it was very hard to stop. 

            After a short walk, and a passing of a group of sailors, Tom and Anise completed their additional journey. Tom opened a door, and stepped inside, activating a table lamp at once, before crossing the room to light another one, and then another. Before long, the room was revealed in a glowing of wan light collected from several lamps, and a gentle, warm atmosphere filled the area. Anise smiled.

            "Sorry about the mess," Tom suddenly apologised, "I wasn't expecting company."

            Anise wouldn't exactly have called it mess... more like unorganised clutter. There was a large table, or desk, over against the far wall, where papers had been strewn at all angles. Displayed on the papers were all sorts of items, some just writing, other diagrams of guns, horseless carriages and other magnificent weapons. An assortment of books -some open- lay here and there, on chairs, the floor and the desk, even the bed. His bed itself was unmade, two soft pillows laying askew at the head, and the blankets in a ruffled heap at the foot. Clothing lay on various surfaces. Everything from socks to discarded shirts could be seen... even underpants

            "Um... I guess I should try and clean this up," Tom muttered, scratching his head, tousling his already dishevelled hair, snatching up the most embarrassing item that conveniently lay near to him, and placing it behind his back. "Would you mind if I..."

            Anise shook her head with a smile that threatened to break into a laugh. "Not at all. I will return soon, if that is okay with you?"

            Tom nodded.

            "Very well," Anise said quietly, eyeing him once again, unable to prevent herself from doing so, "I will see you soon, Agent Sawyer. Have fun cleaning." She winked at him, and departed.

* * *

            Jekyll wasn't entirely sure what to make of this Miss Delacroix, but it wasn't in him to be so sceptical as Hyde. Edward was quite wary, as always, but Henry was warming to her. He had just had a run in with her in the corridor, and it had been quite pleasant. 

            They had chatted with one another, and Jekyll had informed her of his identity after she had inquired as to the whereabouts of the monstrous creature. She had seemed quite intrigued, but not frightened as some had in the past, which was possibly what made Henry think she was genuinely a lovely young woman.

            One whom Tom seemed to enjoy the company of in addition. Henry hadn't seen Sawyer so happy in months. It was wonderful to see him smiling, really smiling, once again. Henry couldn't remember the last time he had seen one that hadn't been forced or only half-earnest.

            Henry had divulged himself once again, quite contently, in his studies of the language. He had a feeling it would come in useful with Miss Delacroix aboard, that was if she stayed at least. Henry had an accompanying feeling that this would be the case as well. 

            Everyone seemed to have taken quite a shine to her, other than Mina Harker that was. But Mina seemed to have problems mostly with no longer being the only female aboard. Perhaps she felt threatened... jealous even?

            No... how could she be jealous of Anise? She had never shown any real attraction to Sawyer. That couldn't be the case. She was just defensive that was all. She was probably worried about Delacroix's loyalties and where they lay. They had barely known the young woman more than two hours.

            To Henry, at least, this was a potential addition, which was a delightful prospect. All they needed was to see her potential. Only Sawyer had seen her with a gun, and that wasn't firing one anyway. Merely aiming.

_            Quite the partner for Tom_, Henry thought with a smile as he perused nouns.

* * *

            Charles Evans turned his head to the doorway as Jacques Beauvais entered, and smiled at the corner of his mouth. From the expression on his acquaintance's face, it seemed that everything was going well. 

            So what if they were being tracked? That mattered very little to Charles. He had everything planned so flawlessly that it couldn't have bothered him less what that silly League did with their time and useless efforts. 

            On two separate occassions they had tried to capture and thwart him, and on two separate occassions they had failed. Despite all their advances and 'skills', the so-called League of Extraordinary Gentlemen was quite a disappointment. At least that was his impression so far. They had no idea.

            "Everything is set into motion," Jacques grumbled to Charles, and the latter breathed in a sigh of satisfaction, even as the crashing and snarling from the floor above erupted once again.

            As dust floated down from the ceiling as it shook, Charles laughed quietly to himself.

            "Marvellous," he hissed in delight, "simply marvellous."


	6. Timing

**A/N: **For those of you who would have reached the end of this chapter with confusion if not for this author's note, I'll explain now... there is a big chunk of LXG movie deleted scene information in this chapter. I don't know the particulars, so I made it up. Thank you very much to MJ Rosemary who said they liked my original character. I'm glad you do... she was particularly difficult to create, but essential ;) Hehehehe. Many, MANY thanks to ALL reviewers. P.s. Not entirely sure on what a Mary-Sue is, but so far, I think I'm glad I'm not doing one of these, hehehehe. Tom fans... enjoy... hopefully :-/

* * *

            She practically stormed into the map room to meet Nemo, raging inside that no one trusted to her instincts, and almost ripped her scarf when removing it from her neck. She threw it in the gentlest manner possible, and launched a gaze at her Indian friend. He raised an eyebrow testily at her temper, and spoke, "We have received word."

            "And what word is that?" she asked impatiently, hands on her hips now as she looked to Nemo.

            The man replied without hesitation, confidence abound in his words, "We are being told that Evans and his men are travelling to New York. We are to follow."

            "London, Paris," she breathed exasperatedly, "and now New York. Is this some sort of game?"

            Nemo cleared his throat quietly, and glanced to his men dotted around the room. They avoided Mina's glares. "No, Mrs Harker, this is no game."

            Mina sighed loudly and in an exaggerated manner. "Well of course it isn't... it was rhetorical, Captain."

            Nemo looked unconvinced.

            Mina sighed once again. Why could no one see the source for her unrest? Why were they all so blinded by this girl's innocent 'charm', Tom most of all. The last she had seen of the two, Sawyer had been giving her a personal tour.

            _Men_, she chattered angrily in her mind, and looked once again to the Captain. "And do they have any ideas as to what Evans is planning to do in New York?"

            "None as of yet," Nemo replied slowly, ensuring she heard him correctly. Did he think her deaf now? "But they assure us it is of utmost importance we persist in our chase."

            "Of course," Mina breathed, suddenly tired. She closed her eyes for a moment, revelling in the darkness she found there, and then continued, "And are we allowing our 'guest' to remain aboard?"

            "That is really her decision, Mrs Harker," Nemo responded nonchalantly. "I have called another dinner this evening, and we shall discuss it then before leaving dock... does this satisfy?"

            Mina didn't see any other choice. "Yes, Captain. Thank you. Now," she paused, "if there is nothing else, I will retire to my quarters. I am suddenly weary."

            "Of course, Mrs Harker," Nemo acknowledged politely. "Until dinner, then. Rest well."

            She nodded curtly, and turned from the room, leaving the door open behind her.

* * *

            He had only just managed to cram everything that fell under the category of 'junk' into his closet when there came a gentle tapping on his door. He pushed the closet door completely shut -at long last- using the full force of his shoulder and back, and went to answer the knocking.

            Anise was what awaited him on the other side of the threshold, and she looked pleased to see him, as he was her.

            He smiled, and waved her in. She glanced around, impression covering her beautiful face once again. He felt the heat rise once more.

            "Well," she said, "that was fast."

            Tom nodded, and glanced around the room quickly. The notes and sketches on his desk had been piled and tidied; the books no longer lay strewn at random places around the room, instead now stacked at the side of the desk; his clothing had been stored away; and the bed was now made... it was a little unusual. His brow furrowed. He wasn't used to his residence being so organized.

            "Not that I minded it before," she told him, turning back to face him.

            He raised an eyebrow, and laughed, "I wish you'd said that before I made the effort."

            She laughed lightly, the sound making Tom smile broader. Why was he so besotted all of a sudden? 

            "I appreciate that you cleaned, Tom," she added, stepping up to the bed, and perching herself on it. Tom felt inclined to follow. "It looks very... nice."

            "Nice?"

            "Yes, nice."

            Tom sat down next to her, at a distance so as not to seem so intruding. Even though this _was_ his room, he respected that people needed their space. "And what do you mean by... nice?" he found himself asking playfully. 

            Anise looked at him, her head at an angle now, her hair tumbling around her face. "I think it's sweet that you cleaned. That is all I meant."

            Sweet? She found him sweet?

            _Uh oh_, Tom thought. He remembered Mina calling him that. He felt a little disheartened all of a sudden.

            Anise seemed to see something in his expression, and she knitted her brow inquisitively. "Did I say something wrong?"

            Tom shook his head, smiling slightly. "No."

            "You look... I can't explain it," Anise began gently, "as though I have offended you."

            "It's just," Tom started cautiously, making sure he chose his words perfectly before continuing, "I've been called 'sweet' before." He paused, reading her expression. "And this person regarded that as a bad trait... that's all."

            Anise smiled. For a moment, Tom thought she was going to laugh at him, before she said, "Oh, Tom, I didn't mean it in a bad way. I like that you're sweet." She laughed lightly. "I don't meet that many agents -if any- who are as charming and handsome as you."

            She seemed to realise what she had said, and her face fell immediately in shock. "I'm sorry... I shouldn't have said that."

            Tom didn't mind... he found it quite reassuring. "It's okay. I like that you're honest." He felt a little smug now, in fact. So she found him sweet, charming _and_ handsome? How could _that_ be a bad thing?

            He wanted to tell her something along the same lines, but all words failed him, and he couldn't think of anything that didn't sound stupid or corny. So he stayed quiet.

            Anise looked a little dejected now.

            Tom swelled with guilt. "Look," he said to her softly, his words quiet, his eyes finding an interesting point on the floor all of a sudden, "it's not that I don't find you attractive... it's just..." How did he continue? How _could_ he?

            Oh god, she was staring right at him now... he had to say something.

            "It's just I don't really have a great track record with women."

            _You idiot_, Tom's subconscious voice chided, _she didn't need to hear that!_

            Tom couldn't bring his eyes up from the floor, before he heard her speak. She had decided on a change of subject, "So, what is America like? I hear it's... big."

            Tom lunged at the oppurtunity for a new topic, and replied, "Oh, yeah... it's pretty big all right."

            "And how about you, Tom? Have you had many adventures?"

            He only then realised she had stopped calling him 'Agent Sawyer'. That was comforting. "Plenty of adventures... some would say _too_ many," he answered, looking her in the eye.

            Anise smiled at him pleasantly. "Do you have many family in America?"

            This topic was taking a bad turn. "No, I don't," Tom replied quickly, a little too quickly. Anise seemed to recognise this, and tried to move things along.

            "Do you miss your friends when you are on these missions of yours? It must be difficult to leave them behind all the time." She too had found an intriguing non-existent point now. She had chosen the far wall.

            Tom felt his heart sink a little at his question. "I don't really... have that many friends. I never really made any when I was a kid... except one."

            "Oh? And where are they now?"

            Tom swallowed dryly at the memory. "I buried him in Missouri last year."

            There was an awkward and painful moment of silence where Tom felt Anise's eyes turn on him. 

            "Oh, Tom, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to bring up something so... so sensitive."

            "It's okay," Tom said in a small voice, trying to suppress the memory, and having a difficult time with it. "You didn't know..."

            "But I shouldn't have been so nosy," Anise argued delicately.

            Tom heard himself talking rather sorrowfully before he could stop himself, and he listened to his own story with a great swell of mourning and guilt, "We were partners. We'd been friends as long as I can remember, and we always seemed to get ourselves into trouble, you know? But on that day last year, it was just too much trouble for the both of us to come out of... and he died."

            Anise looked to him again, sympathy evident on her face.

            "We had always watched each other's backs, and I slipped for a second... I watched him die."

            He wanted to stop, but he couldn't. The words and the pent up emotion just kept on spilling out of his mouth.

            "Even though I managed to avenge his death, kill the man who murdered him, I can't help thinking it was my fault... I _know _it was my fault. I should have paid more attention."

            "Tom, I'm sure you did all you could."

            Tom shook his head. "I could have watched his back." He turned his eyes on her, and to his surprise, the first tears he had felt since Huck Finn's funeral welled in them. He tried to blink them back, but he failed, and turned his face away from her. He couldn't believe he was crying in front of her... that he had told her that story when everyone else knew nothing of his reasons for chasing the Phantom not so long ago.

            He let his head fall into his hands, and closed his eyes tight, trying to push away the images and sounds from his mind that deafened and assaulted him. He could clearly see Huck right beside him, and then the way his friend had simply fallen to the floor, all life fading out of him. Tom had lost concentration for one second, managed to avoid the bullet himself, but it had struck his oldest and best friend. He had watched him die without being able to prevent it, despite his best efforts. 

            The Phantom was dead now, at his own hand, but that didn't take away the pain and the guilt that swelled inside of him every day at his failure. The Phantom, M... Moriarty, whatever or whoever he had been, had still managed to claim another friend of Tom's before his own death.

            He felt the hand run over his back soothingly as he sobbed quietly, trying to stop himself. He felt so stupid all of a sudden, letting her see him like this. Why now? Why had he told her? He so wished he hadn't.

            Her fingers stroked through the back of his thick hair, and he felt the sobs and tears ease for a moment, before a hand came down and tilted his head up by his chin. His eyes met Anise's, and then she leaned forward and kissed him softly.

            She pulled back after only a moment, when he was so stunned he didn't know what to do.

            "I'm sorry."

            She was apologising a lot. She had done since they'd met. What did she have to be sorry for?

            "I shouldn't have done that, not now... not when you're upset," Anise explained hurriedly, turning her face away from him as if in shame.

            His eyes still stinging with tears, and his head still swimming; Tom stretched out his hand, and turned her face back to his. He reached out with his other hand, holding her face now, gently and affectionately, before he kissed her back, with passion and urgency, as though he had been waiting his whole life to do this one thing at this exact moment.

            She did not resist his hold on her, and her fingers played lightly over his bare arm, before running through his hair and resting at the back of his head possessively as if afraid to let him go, shortly before she slowly lay back on the bed, Tom on top of her, still holding her in the kiss.


	7. And Then There Were Six

**A/N: **Okay, guys, test time... can ANYONE tell me the word Quatermain and Tom used to call for another target on the deck of the Nautilus? Whoever gives the answer has my deepest gratitude, and they get a cookie of their choice. First of many thanks to fellow author and friend ikhan11 for his factual help with this fiction. In this case it happens to be in relation to food and drink ;) You'll see... Anyway, if you like my writing, you may be interested in his. Feel free to check it out... I'd also like to thank everyone who has been supportive about the previously mentioned and featured deleted scene information. I was really wary about doing it, but had to show the softer side of poor Tom... we all know he has one :) I can't believe they cut that... Grrr... I bet that would have been a wonderfully acted scene. Anyway, back to the story. 

* * *

            Rodney Skinner was, by all meanings of the word, late for the dinner, and he took his place at the table quietly, throwing an apologetic expression Nemo's way before realising he was not last to arrive.

            There were two empty settings on the other side of the long table, to the right of Jekyll, and Skinner immediately recognised who they belonged to. Tom and Anise, the rather fetching French girl. He pondered over their whereabouts; before he noticed with relief the food had not been served yet. Nemo was clearly waiting for all to be present and correct.

             Mina sat to the left of Skinner, muttering quietly under her breath. He couldn't make out her words, as he pulled the collar at the back of his leather coat up to hide the rear of his head, or rather lack thereof. He knew it to be not so pleasant for other dinner guests when they saw the food go in and down. That was another reason why he covered his face and eyes at mealtimes. It was what he considered polite.

            Jekyll, across the table opposite Skinner, tidied and rearranged his cutlery items almost rhythmically. He shifted them a fraction, and then a little more. He observed them for a moment, before moving them once again. 

            Nemo sat, as usual, at the head of the exquisite table, and waited, hands knitted together neatly before him, perched on the edge of the wood. His dark eyes stared straight ahead, but Skinner liked to think he knew him well enough to know that he was growing steadily more impatient. 

            Mina fussed over her napkin, and neatened the cuffs on her blouse, looking quietly around the room she had made herself comfortable in dozens of times. How did she manage to look so enchanting all the time? But then Skinner supposed it was impossible for the vampire to look anything less, and he shut such ponderings out of his mind.

            That was when he heard the running from down the hall outside the doors, just before they burst open, and Tom Sawyer himself almost tumbled through them, shortly before Anise Delacroix came practically running into him from behind. Both looked a little embarrassed, and Sawyer himself -his hair more than anything, not that it was unusual- appeared quite unkempt.

            Sawyer cleared his throat quietly, and walked up to his seat, neatening his black waistcoat as he did so. "Sorry we're late. Um... lost track of time, I guess."

            Anise sat to his right, whereas Sawyer took his usual seat opposite Mina, who eyed him with a certain expression of... was that distaste? Skinner wasn't sure, and he didn't like to dwell, so he turned to Nemo, "So, what have you got in store for us tonight? Something delightful and... interesting no doubt."

            "No one is forcing you to eat the food I serve, Mr Skinner," Nemo informed him in his usual aloof manner.

            "All righty then," Skinner muttered, realising he had hit a sensitive spot.  

            Nemo called through his 'waiters' and the meals were placed before them. Sawyer for one, looked more enthusiastic this evening, but there was still a mysterious air of melancholy about him that Skinner couldn't place.

            Skinner looked down at his plate, which was filled with rice and some sort of fish. There was no wine tonight, instead some sort of hot drink, although Skinner wasn't sure why. It wasn't exactly cold. He picked up his beverage, and looked quizzically to Nemo.

            The man smiled, lifting his own cup, and said, "Brown tea. I thought it would make a nice change of pace."

            Skinner noticed then that his small cup had no handle on it, and he raised an eyebrow, but shrugged it off, being open-minded and drank some. It was actually surprisingly good. Quite refreshing too. 

            They settled into their meal without much conversation. Sawyer had to explain the dish to Anise, which Skinner thought was unusual...  but then, he supposed, she _was _French. She hadn't been onboard long, and wouldn't understand Nemo's fondness of his country's traditional foods, which he insisted on the rest of the League eating almost daily.

            Skinner got a little sick of it sometimes, all the curries and fish and rice, but on other occassions, he reasoned it was nice to have a bit of culture. It made a pleasant change to what he had been used to back in London. 

            The meal finished after some time, and everyone appeared to have had his or her fill. They were all on their third of fourth small cup of brown tea. All seemed to like it at least, which Skinner supposed must have made Nemo happy.

            "So, gentlemen," Nemo began, and Skinner immediately mused over whether the man had intended this as a witticism. He supposed not, and listened as the captain continued, "We must discuss our strategy for our next encounter with Mr Evans."

            "First things first, Captain," Mina interjected with enthusiasm, "we must ask our guest what she plans to do next." She turned her attention on the stranger to the table. Skinner only just noticed her chair was closer to Sawyer's than it had been placed. Had she shuffled?

            "So, Miss Delacroix," Mina asked of her, "what is it that you are intending to do next? Return to the city?"

            Anise and Sawyer exchanged brief glances. Sawyer drank some of his tea quietly. Anise spoke back to Mina with respect and caution; "Tom and I have been discussing..." she trailed off at Mina's raising of an eyebrow. Skinner watched the two women, even as the younger persisted, "I was wondering if I could accompany you. I am, after all, interested in the same thing as you. Evans and his men have plagued France long enough, and I intend to put a stop to them."

            Jekyll peered down the table with interest, and nodded slowly and subtlely at the young woman's sincerity and apparent dedication.

            There was a long silence that descended upon the table.

            "Well?" Sawyer asked of his companions, "What about it?"

            Nemo and Skinner and Jekyll looked to one another in turn, before all three turned their gazes and inquiring looks upon Mina, who saw them do so. She raised her eyebrows. Her face turned to Sawyer's, and she sighed.

            "I see nothing wrong with allowing her to join us. Are we in agreement?" Mina asked of the three gentlemen. They all knew Sawyer's opinion already.

            Nemo nodded once. Skinner shrugged and offered a cheery, "I don't see why not."

            Jekyll smiled. "Of course."

            Skinner thought for one moment that the doctor was going to add 'the more the merrier', but luckily he did not. Skinner wouldn't have been able to stop his laugh if he had. He wasn't entirely sure why. The phrase always struck him as humorous.

            Sawyer smiled happily, and Anise looked genuinely pleased. In fact, the two looked relieved more than anything. Skinner suddenly thought he understood why. He couldn't believe how dense he had been before. He hid his smile behind his cup.

            "So back to the matter of tactics," Nemo continued from his earlier point.

* * *

             Nemo stood in what he considered to be the very brain of Nautilus, on the bridge, his loyal crew all around him as they cut through the waves on their way to America. His newly appointed first mate stood at the forefront of the room, giving quiet orders to the men around him.

            Nemo could very clearly make out the words, and approved of them inwardly. The man was doing well. Of course, the captain deeply missed his old friend, Ishmael, and with a great swell of satisfaction remembered that the murderer had been destroyed... quite literally, or so went his understanding.

            He did not like to dwell on such matters, and so turned his attention back on the map he had been surveying and charting. At this rate, the Nautilus would be within sight of New York in a little over two days.

            How he loved this magnificent vessel of his... she was truly a blessing. Of course, he had been particularly fond of another of his inventions, but it had perished not long ago. Not without need of course, for had it not been destroyed then Venice would no longer exist. 

            Pushing his mind along from reminiscing, Captain Nemo turned his dark eyes back on his map, and smiled discreetly.


	8. I'll Guide You

**A/N: **Another tame one here, guys, but this had to be done I'm afraid. Hope you're not too disappointed. Don't worry... they'll get some action soon. :) I'd like to thank LotRseer3350 for their help. I have seen the word written down somewhere else, so I think I'll go with that spelling. Getting the novelisation today in about an hour, so I'll have a look for that name you mentioned. Here you go, you've earned this *gives LotRseer3350 a big yummy cookie* Enjoy! Make it whatever flavour you want. So glad to see you're checking back, guys, I'm glad I'm not boring you all into a stupor. Sorry! Hope this one's okay... one of my faves actually... *shuts up and lets you read* 

* * *

            She followed with an undeniable sense of intrigue, and before long, she found herself standing behind him as he opened a heavy door by twisting the metal handle in the middle. He stepped aside as it swung open, and let her out into the fresh air. She took in a deep breath and smiled despite herself. It was very refreshing.

            Tom, squinting slightly in the sunlight, looked out over the vast ocean that was all that was visible for miles around, and sighed. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

            Anise turned on him, and could not hide her smile. "Oh, it's magnificent." She walked to the edge of the deck, and peered over, her eyes wide all of a sudden. "How fast are we travelling?"

            "Well, I couldn't tell you the speed," Tom replied, coming up to her side and leaning on it with his hands as he glanced at the waves crashing against the ship, "but Nemo says this thing's fast, and he's not wrong. We should be in America in a couple of days."

            "Are you excited?" Anise found herself asking almost immediately.

            Tom turned his gaze upon her, and he shrugged. "Sort of. I don't really miss it, you know? I have the chance of a lifetime here."

            She nodded in understanding. He wasn't wrong. What she wouldn't give for this life... but she had other priorities, other loyalties. She could not throw all that away for this existence, no matter how much it tempted her.

            "So, Tom Sawyer," she began quieter, feeling her brown locks of hair swirling about her face in the slight breeze, "what is it that you brought me up here to see?"

            "Ah," Tom breathed, and nodded to the other side of the deck they stood on, "a little... test, I suppose you could call it."

            "A test?"

            "I've never seen you with a gun." He grinned mischievously.

            "Ah, but you have," she corrected. "When we first met."

            He laughed, nodding to the dark-skinned man standing at an unusual machine. The man nodded back once. "True, I've seen you holding one, but I've never seen you shoot." He paused for a moment. "I'm curious." 

            She didn't know what to say or do, so she just raised an eyebrow at him.

            He paced over to the other man, smiling at him slightly, and retrieved a long object she soon recognised as a gun, a rifle to be precise. He came back over to her holding it in one hand, looking at it admiringly. 

            His green eyes met hers then, and he persisted, "You up for it?"

            She laughed quietly, intrigued once again, and nodded slowly. "All right." She cocked her head slightly to one side. "But we are both curious as to skills, Tom Sawyer... for I have never seen _you_ fire a gun."

            Tom raised his eyebrows playfully. "Is that a challenge, Miss Delacroix?"

            Anise bit her lip gently. "Maybe."

            "All right," he said to her, "have it your way."

            He called something in a language she did not comprehend, although it sounded to her like he said 'salau', and suddenly, an almighty orb sailed through the air, travelling for what seemed like an eternity before splashing down in the waves in the distance. She realised how her face must have fallen then... how could they hope to hit this target?

            Tom raised the gun with ease, and stood perfectly still for a moment, before squeezing the trigger, and letting off a shot.

            She watched in awe as the red sphere exploded with the impact of the bullet.

            Anise found herself cursing in French with surprise, and she looked apologetically to Tom, who appeared confused at once. "Pardon me," she said to him in a voice barely above a whisper. "But... how is it that you struck the target? It is so great a distance..."

            "Well that just comes down to practise," Tom informed her, the other fingers of his right hand pulling down and forward on a lever behind the trigger guard. A shell was ejected from the rifle, and she heard the affirming click of another round slotted into place in the barrel. "I'm not ashamed to admit the others can find me up here whenever we surface."

            She smiled at him then, earnestly and with a dazed sense of wonder. "And your weapon?" She pointed at it loosely. It was unfamiliar to her. She was much more accustomed to her pistols.

             Tom offered the gun out to her, and she took it by the stock and the barrel gently, as if afraid she would hurt it. "Modified Winchester rifle. Lever action." He hesitated, hands akimbo in the slight breeze as his own hair partially obstructed his eyes from view. "You ever used one of these?"

            Anise could not lie to him. She hadn't, despite her occupation. She was no longer certain she wanted to play this little game of his. "No."

            "Don't worry," he assured her, "I'll guide you through it."

* * *

            Tom positioned himself behind and slightly to the side of Anise, very close to her, and used his hands to urge her to raise the rifle. She followed his lead, and the barrel elevated slowly. She already had her index finger in the trigger guard but seemed wary of positioning her others appropriately.

            Tom gently took a hold of them, and showed her where to place them, inside the lever behind the trigger, and she did not protest. 

            She was holding the gun almost perfectly now. Tom called for another target. One was launched at once, and they waited for it to land.

            Tom kept his own eyes on the target as he spoke to Anise softly, "Just forget the distance, and remember to compensate for the wind. Don't be afraid of the gun... work with it." He realised how much he reminded himself of Allan Quatermain, and suppressed the smile. "Concentration is key... when you're absolutely positive you're at the right moment..."

            The gun fired. Tom saw the bullet disturb the waves about twenty feet too short of the target. He nodded slowly, and smiled at Anise, who looked slightly ashamed.

            "I fired too soon," she explained needlessly. "Maybe this was not such a good idea, Tom."

            He shook his head. "Don't be silly. You said so yourself, you're not used to this kind of gun. Don't feel bad about it." He took the gun from her gently, revolved the lever, loading the new round, and then handed it back to her. She took it tentatively.

            He felt his right hand going around her, to ease up the tension on her trigger finger as she raised the rifle again once the new target had been launched. 

            "Never _pull _the trigger," he said to her, quietly, "just squeeze it. Okay?"

            She nodded gently, and their faces were so close he could smell her perfume now. He tried to shake off the sense of contentment it filled him with, and kept his eyes on the red target. 

            After what seemed like hours, which was in reality only a matter of seconds, the rifle was fired again. 

            "Oh, this really is not my kind of weapon," she said at once, and turned on him guiltily. 

            Why did she feel so bad about it?

            "That was pretty damn close," he assured her with a smile. "Considering that was only your second shot, that was impressive."

            She raised an eyebrow sceptically and frowned, before thrusting the gun at him. "You take another shot. You will strike the target... I know you will. Show me what I am doing wrong."

            Tom took the gun hesitantly, suddenly not so eager to be the victor, and aimed after shifting another round into the barrel. His eyes were concealed from Anise's view, so despite his better judgement, he closed them and fired.

            "You did that on purpose!"

            He opened his eyes; seeing that he had -as intended- missed the target. He held the rifle in his right hand only now, and looked to Anise innocently... well as innocent as he could manage. "I did not."

            "Yes you did," she laughed, waving her hand at him. "You weren't even looking. You closed your eyes, I saw you!" She was laughing quite loudly now, so obviously she wasn't too annoyed with him.

            Tom wasn't sure what to say next, so he simply shrugged, and narrowed his eyes against the glaring of the sun, trying to look apologetic. "Sorry... I didn't want you to feel too bad about missing."

            "I know I am no good with a rifle, Tom," Anise retaliated with a smile. "There was no need to try and spare my feelings." She stepped closer. "But I appreciate your concern."

            Tom suddenly wished the aide would disappear. Even though the other man did not look their way, Tom wanted nothing more than to once again be alone with Anise. 

            Anise tilted her face up to his, and kissed him gently for a few seconds, before breaking away slowly. She was wearing that same enthralling smile when he opened his eyes to look at her.

            "What will you do when Evans is stopped?" he asked of her suddenly, Winchester still in his right hand firmly. His left hung at his side, empty.

            Anise looked startled by the question, and shrugged lightly beneath her blouse. "I suppose I will return to Paris."

            Tom had been afraid of that.

            "But there are some things," she began in a low voice, leaning on the rail suddenly to look over at the waves once again, "about that city that make me wish I will never see it again."

            "So don't go back," Tom said to her from his place some six feet away. His eyes stared down at the metal floor below them. "No one's making you go back."

            "I have a duty to my country, Tom," she replied, somewhat sadly, "and other pledges to fulfil. There are some things more complicated than 'yes' or 'no'."

            Tom leaned the rifle against the railing beside him, and his feet carried him the short distance to stand beside her. "Nothing should ever stop you from doing what you want to do, Anise." He paused, his eyes watching her as she stared down at the waters below. "What does your heart tell you?"

            Anise's eyes rose to meet his then, and there was a certain sorrow there. "To stay."

             Tom swallowed dryly, unsure of what to do all of a sudden. "So stay."

            "Tom..."

            He smiled. "If it's what you want, Anise, then you shouldn't let anyone stand in your way."

            Anise's lips turned up into a smile slowly, and she closed her eyes with a slow sigh. 

            As she stood there silently, apparently at ease once again, Tom's eyes found the intact red target drifting away from them, and exhaled quietly, hands finding his pockets.


	9. A Simple Difference of Opinion

**A/N: **Thanks again for the reviews. Sorry for the wait, and keep up with telling me what you think. It's helping :) A little more action (if you can call it that) in this chapter. Hope it's a nice change of pace from the last few chapters. Don't worry, if this one isn't enough for you action-nuts out there, wait until the next chapter *knowing grin*

* * *

            Mina Harker had found a most distracting way to spend her time... and it was her usual sort of diversion. Chemicals. Being a chemist after all, there was always something new she could try with them -within safe parameters of course- and something new to discover.

            She had a few assorted books lying open around her, and vials and test tubes scattered in an organised fashion across the desk, amidst beakers and a Bunsen burner. 

            Her glasses were perched on her nose, and her blue eyes never left the test tube she was tinkering with, even as the sound of footfalls could be heard just inside her door. 

            "Can I help you, Special Agent Sawyer?" she asked in a kind, yet aloof tone of voice, her heightened senses alerting her to the company.

            She heard his reply when it finally came, and he sounded a little put-down, "I just wanted to come see what you were doing. I haven't seen you around the ship in the last couple days, and I wondered if everything was okay."

            "Yes, Mr Sawyer," she informed him coldly, placing down the tubes, and lifting a beaker carefully with her feminine hand, "everything is fine."

            Mina heard him approach, but noticed he stayed at a wary distance. He seemed a little on his guard around chemicals. "Are you sure? Ever since Anise-"

            Mina let her sigh come forth louder and sounding more impatient than it should have, and he stopped his sentence at once... if only for a moment; "That's it, isn't it?"

            Her concentration faltering rapidly, she placed down the beaker and turned in her chair to face the young man. His handsome face was pensive and perhaps a little offended. 

            _Oh for goodness' sake_, Mina thought hurriedly, _it's not as if I don't trust _him.

            Tom eyed her curiously, furrowing his brow. "What is it about her?"

            Mina rolled her eyes discreetly. "You are jumping to conclusions. I never said it was her. Am I not entitled to a little privacy every now and then like everyone else on this vessel?"

            Tom shook his head, hands in his pockets, his braces hanging -as ever- unused down the sides and back of his trousers. "It's more than that. You've been a little testy ever since she came on the scene."

            "Testy, Mr Sawyer?"

            The expression that came over his face showed his annoyance with her sudden use of 'Mr Sawyer'. She shrugged this off completely, and awaited his reply, which wasn't long in coming; "Yeah. You've been short-tempered and even cruel."

            "Cruel?"

            "Yeah... Skinner outside the Nautilus in Paris." Tom's voice was rising ever so slightly. "What was all that about? You know how he is."

            "Yes, I do, and quite frankly, I am growing sick of it," Mina retorted briskly, turning her attention back on her work. He was becoming quite distracting in himself. "As I'm sure others are as well."

            "I couldn't give a damn," Tom said to her, just as icily. He was growing quite heated in the way he was acting towards her now. "It's not his fault."

            She stood and whirled on him then, whipping off and disregarding her spectacles. "Oh, but it is, and you know that as well as I do. He _stole_ that formula, and used it on himself, and it serves him right he can't turn back!"

            Tom eyed her perhaps with a little caution now. She was far from short, and was even an inch or two taller than he was himself. The hands stayed in the pockets though, as if he were afraid to remove them. "That's no need to lay into him every time he jokes about it. Maybe it helps him deal with the fact that he's stuck."

             Mina laughed, quite without humour. "Oh, I see. So he deserves no blame for his condition?"

            "I never said that."

            "It certainly sounded like it, Mr Sawyer."

            "Stop calling me that!"

            His sudden yell startled Mina slightly, and the two locked gazes firmly. Perhaps she should calm down, she realised, and took in a deep breath. After all, he _was_ right about Skinner. "Tom-"

            "No, you know what?" Tom interrupted, his hands leaving their pockets. He pointed a finger at her accusingly then, as he persisted, "I've had enough of you looking on everyone as something bad. What was it you thought about me when we first met?"

            She did not respond. She remembered... it hadn't been very positive.

            "Some silly, young, hot-headed American 'boy' who was gonna get himself killed, isn't that right?" Tom said to her in a low voice. He was closer to her now, and she could almost smell the anger coming off of him. Why was he so upset? "Well I guess I'm a classic example of how wrong you can be, Mrs Harker." Her name was spoken with slight mocking that she did not like. Nevertheless, she stayed quiet.

            Tom seemed to need to vent his anger somehow, and she just happened to be his target. She far from liked it, but if it would calm him down... perhaps she was willing to sacrifice a little of her pride. As long as he didn't say anything too harsh.

            "Wanna know what I thought of _you_?" 

            O_h dear_, she thought. This wasn't a good idea. She was far from calm herself.

            Tom even had a little of his cocky all-American smile back on his face now as he answered the question without her acknowledgement, "When I first saw you, sure, I thought you were just some beautiful European girl I could look at when I thought you wouldn't notice. That didn't last long though... remember that guy in Gray's library?"

            _Quite vividly_, she replied in her mind. She simply stared unwaveringly as he spoke.

            "I was quite surprised, I'll give you that," Tom continued. "I'd never quite seen anything like it. I joked about it at the time, but you scared me."

            Mina averted her gaze now, not quite so confident anymore. She despised discussing this topic.

            "Don't get me wrong, I'm not exactly squeamish, but seeing you... 'devour' that man didn't exactly fill me with a sense of joy and content."

            Mina's eyes snapped back to meet his. He did not flinch beneath her gaze now. Perhaps he felt braver for having confronted her. "Devour?" she muttered to him, "Is that what you call it?"

            Tom took in a breath noticeably, and squared his shoulders.

            _Oh how very American of you_, her thoughts rambled, but she dismissed them.

            "Devour..." she laughed quietly to herself, "well, that's a new term for what I do." Her voice came out with more confidence and volume when she next spoke, "What I do, which I might add is completely my own business and far from yours, is anything but a hobby. Occasionally, I require it simply to survive, and if you could get your narrow mind around that for just a moment, perhaps you would not be so judging." 

            He had offended her now, and she was shocked and upset despite her outer shielding of confidence and nonchalance. Inside she was reeling from his verbal attack.

            "You forget," she said to him in a low voice, "that you joined this 'freak show' quite of your own accord."

            Tom glared. It looked as though she had struck a blow on him now. "I wanted to help," he retaliated, some of his bravado gone now.

            Despite her subconscious telling her to do otherwise, she said, "And what a grand job you did, Thomas... why, we simply couldn't have done it without you."

            Tom's face fell for only a moment, before it hardened once again, his jaw clenched with what could have possibly been anger. "Well it's nice to know what you really think of me."

            Mina wanted to apologise immediately, but her pride held it back, kept her silent. She raised an eyebrow at him.

            He thrust his hands back into his pockets again, quite forcefully this time, as though he wanted nothing more to smash her beakers and equipment but was restraining himself. She was glad... she would have been quite annoyed had he given in to the urge.

            "A pleasure as always, Mrs Harker," he mumbled to her, and departed at once, almost colliding with Dr Jekyll upon doing so.

            Mina let out a long, quiet breath of exhalation, and touched her fingers to her temples. She was suddenly getting a headache. She closed her eyes.

            "Is everything all right?" Jekyll asked of her.

            Her eyes opened and met his face, and she shook her head. "It's fine."

            Jekyll glanced the way Tom had clearly taken, and added, "But I heard a commotion from down the corridor, thought I'd come and see if everything was okay. What happened?"

            "Young Sawyer and I had a minor disagreement, that is all," Mina informed the gentle doctor, whom she wanted to leave more than anything, but didn't quite want to order away.

            "A minor disagreement that has him filled with more anger than I've seen in him?" Jekyll inquired at a push. "And yourself I might add."

            Mina looked to him. "Doctor, it was nothing. We had an exchange of opinions, nothing more."

            Jekyll looked as though he was going to add something further, but then seemed to decide against it. He nodded with a small smile as usual, and removed his pocket watch, eyeing it. 

            "Well, I really must be shooting off," he said quietly, "but I just thought I should tell you that New York has appeared on the horizon."

            Mina nodded and offered him a wan smile. "Thank you, Doctor."

            Jekyll nodded, and disappeared from view.

            With a deep regretful sigh at all the words she had said to Tom; Mina went back to her chemicals.

* * *

            Anise jumped quite violently in surprise when the door slammed, and she whirled at once, dropping the book she had been perusing. Her heart raced for a while before she realised it was only Tom. He looked troubled, angry... even upset.

            Picking up the book she had dropped and closing it, she replaced it on the desk, and walked over to him as he paced slowly. "Is everything all right?"

            "It's fine," Tom replied shortly.

            Anise frowned. "Is it the woman? Did she say something about... about me?"

            "Not exactly." Tom sat heavily on his bed, and lay back on it with very little care what he landed on. There was nothing but a few papers and a white shirt. He ignored this. "Not about you anyway."

            Anise stood over him with concern and curiousity she could not deny. "About you?" She was surprised. Everyone here appeared to co-exist quite effortlessly... or so it had seemed. This suggested otherwise.

            "Don't worry about it," Tom mumbled, and sat up, his hair a mess, once again. She stroked some of it from his eyes, forcing him to look up at her, and he smiled. "I'm not."

            She crouched down, and looked him squarely in the face. "Liar."

            Tom rolled his eyes. "Why should I care what she thinks of me? I don't... really."

            Anise knew this to be far from the truth, but let it drop nevertheless. If he wanted to talk about it, she would listen. Clearly, this was not the time, and she did not want to push him. 

            At that moment, there was a knock on the door. It opened immediately afterwards seemingly on its own, and a dismembered voice said, "Nearly there. Just thought you'd like to know, Sawyer."

            "Thanks, Skinner."

            The invisible man in the doorway chuckled, and added, "Welcome home."

            Then he was gone, as the door closed behind him. Tom stood, and retrieved his jacket from the coat rack. Anise followed suit. He slipped his on, as did she, and led the way out of the room, retrieving his Winchester rifle on the way.

            Anise smiled as they went. She was quite eager to see America with Tom all of a sudden.


	10. Surrounded

**A/N: **Thanks to those who have returned, and welcome to newbies... excuse the word, I watch too much 'Scrubs'. Anyway... good news for all you out there who have been waiting for a little action. :D

* * *

            It was just as he remembered it. The noise, the smell and the sight of it. People milled around sparingly, and spoke in accents very similar to his own. He grinned happily despite himself, and looked to his company. 

            They smiled back, apparently fascinated by the scenery that surrounded them. It was new to her, he understood, and the excitement and intrigue in her eyes was infectious. He knew he should be concentrating, but the sense of belonging that had settled within him at once upon their arrival was hard to ignore.

            They had asked some questions around the city centre, pretending to be old associates of Evans, and some people had foolishly directed them to their current position, where the man had last been seen. Tom had been the one doing the talking, and Anise had remained silent and observant by his side for quite some time now, her brown eyes taking everything in.

            "Why does this guy always seem to enjoy making me wait?" Tom asked of no one in particular. 

            "I do not think he is doing so intentionally, Tom," Anise teased.

            He eyed her for a moment, and laughed. "No, I guess not... wait... do you hear that?"

            Anise tilted her head to listen, and she nodded in an affirming motion. Tom took off at a jog down the street. Anise followed without question. 

            Mina's words still burning in his mind freshly, he came up on the most unusual of sights. There was a large wire fence, behind which several dogs were bounding around madly, barking as if they were threatened. They were snarling, howling and pining loudly. It made him wince, and he looked to Anise as she caught up with him, even as the dogs' noise reached a new pinnacle.

            "What the hell's wrong with them?" Tom called to Anise over the noise.

            She had covered her ears as if pained, but apparently was still able to hear him. "I don't know. Perhaps they can smell something they do not like."

            A shot from a nearby gun into the enclosure quietened the animals, especially one particular canine that was struck. It yelped considerably in pain, and slumped to the ground, motionless.

            Tom started, shocked at the death of the animal before him, and turned at the sound of a voice; "Oh, that's much better."

            Anise stepped back as a figure loomed out of the shadows, flanked by two others. Tom stood his ground, and raised his Winchester, the round already loaded. His eyes narrowed as he saw the pale features of Charles Evans illuminated. Anger rose in him suddenly, perhaps because the man had given Tom so much grief, or maybe it was due to the ruthless unnecessary act he had just witnessed.

            The gun was still in Evans' hand, and the two men that flanked him held their own weapons. Evans made a face at Tom, one of expectance, and cleared his throat.

            Tom did not waver, kept his rifle firmly aimed at Evans' chest.

            "Wanna know how the dog felt?" Tom asked through gritted teeth. 

            "Now, now, my dear boy," Evans chuckled, admiring the gun in Tom's hands, "your temper will get you nowhere but closer to experiencing that for yourself."

            The man to Evans' right was the one Tom guessed to be Jacques. The build was similar, and the hair too. The somewhat bestial expression was unwavering and identical to what he had seen before from the man. He held a pistol in his own hand.

            Beside him, Anise whispered, "Tom, please..."

            The sound of hammers being cocked from other positions now alerted Tom to their being surrounded. He swallowed dryly, and slowly, reluctantly, lowered his rifle. 

            Evans used the barrel of his own gun to point at the floor.

            Tom placed the Winchester down carefully, his eyes never leaving Evans' own.

            Behind them, the dogs started pining again. One was brave enough to bark ferociously at a newcomer to the group, who emerged to Tom's right.

            Evans fired his gun again, slaughtering the dog.

            "Stop it!" cried Anise, and Tom felt his heart quicken feverishly at the malice he was seeing and hearing. He felt a little nauseous all of a sudden.

            "Oh, they are only animals," Evans breathed with a distinct air of detachment. He seemed then to realise the woman's identity and presence. "Ah, Agent Delacroix... how lovely to see you again." An odd smile came over his face, and Tom felt his jaw clench with anger.

            "The feeling is not mutual," Anise retorted bravely, "I can assure you."

            Jacques glared from beside Evans. Evans himself laughed heartily. "Oh, such strong words from such a pretty thing."

            Tom stepped forward, but several guns were aimed now at him solely. Anise reached out with a hand, and Tom begrudgingly backed down.

            "Good boy," Evans murmured, apparently no longer amused. His attention turned back on Anise. "And how has your investigation been progressing, if I may ask?"

            Anise looked quite exasperated herself now. Tom hadn't seen her like this before. He wasn't sure how to feel about it. 

            "You know very well how it is, Evans," she retaliated bitterly. "Well you should. You are, after all, a key factor."

            Evans laughed once again.

            Tom's mind raced with possible actions. What should he do? The sound of dogs scampering around behind him made him want nothing more than to reclaim his weapon and blow Evans and his men to hell and back. He wanted the dogs to be quiet... he didn't want Evans to revel in killing any more of them, which actually seemed to bother Jacques too now that he came to think of it.

            The man was tensed so much he appeared ready to explode if he didn't do something quickly. His gun was aimed steadily at Tom, and his dark, almost black eyes kept flickering between the two agents and the animals from behind a tangle of greasy black hair.

            "What do you want?" Tom blurted, and Jacques' gun hand tightened around the trigger so suddenly he thought it was going to set it off.

            Evans held up a hand to Jacques as though he could sense his associate's urge, and replied, "Quite simple, really." He eyed the dogs quietly, before saying, "For the two of you to stop... hounding me, as it were."

            Tom didn't find the witticism very humorous at all, as some of Evans' men seemed to. 

            "So you're going to kill us?" Anise asked without a hint of fear.

            Tom admired her even more all of a sudden. He watched Evans without blinking; wondering if this was how it was all going to end.  His fists clenched, and every muscle in him went taut. 

            Evans sighed, long and pensively. "I haven't quite decided, my dear girl."

            The references to adolescence were really starting to grate on Tom.

            "I could either take your word that you will stop hunting me down like an animal," he paused for a moment to take in their expressions, "or I could make certain of it right now."

            Tom could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and he was suddenly very aware of the presence of his Colt pistols at his waist. Should he draw them and go down fighting or stand and be murdered like the animals behind them?

            "I am the one who has been hunting you down, Evans," Anise said quietly, and with conviction. "He has done nothing wrong." 

            Tom realised who she was indicating, and he felt his breath quicken uncontrollably.

            "This is true in part," Evans agreed with a sigh of boredom. "But, the boy has been quite annoying, to give him the credit he is due. Like a thorn in my side in fact."

            The gun in Evans' hand snapped up to aim at Tom suddenly, and the latter did not flinch. He simply stared at Evans, even as Anise shouted, "No! You son of a bitch!" Something else followed, but Tom was far from fluent in French. It didn't sound very polite.

            Evans laughed, eyes staring into Tom's with childlike enthusiasm. "Oh, do calm yourself, Agent Delacroix," he stated. "Perhaps by killing the boy, I can rest assured you will never bother me again."

            "I would hunt you down and kill you like the spineless bastard that you are!" Anise yelled at him, her voice wavering a little now.

            Tom shook his head. "No, he wants to kill me, then let him. I'd rather it was me than you..."

            "Oh, how disgustingly noble and American of you," Evans interrupted with a grimace. "Maybe killing you both will solve all my problems."

            He drew another ornate pistol from inside his coat, and aimed it on Anise.

            He cocked the hammers back.


	11. Window of Oppurtunity

**A/N: **Action and angst galore! I'm so glad you liked that last chapter... here, as a reward, have the follow-up to the cliffy ;) Keep up with telling me what you think. It makes me smile every time I open my mail :D

* * *

            Skinner did all his mind yelled at him to do, which was find the biggest rock at hand, and launch it with all his strength right at that man's smug face. He did exactly that, and watched with satisfaction and pride as the rock hit Charles Evans right in the head, unbalancing him. 

            The man to his right turned his gun in Skinner's general direction and pulled on the trigger angrily, firing off three shots before realising no one was there.

            It didn't matter. It had given Sawyer just the oppurtunity he needed to withdraw his pistols and pump half of the rounds into the very same man, who disappeared back into the shadows screaming in agony.

            Delacroix mirrored Tom, and shot at two different targets at once, arms wide, taking them both out. The man to the left of Evans went down in pain, and someone up in the building ahead fell out of the window shouting as he was struck.

            One of the other assailants launched themselves at Sawyer, ploughing into him from the side, causing them both to go down, and punching Tom round the face, trying to rid him of one of his guns.

            Skinner ran in despite his reservations and jumped on to the back of Sawyer's assailant. The man grunted, and Sawyer gave a cry, shouting, "Get off! You're gonna crush me, dammit!"

             Skinner practically tore the man from Sawyer, who groaned, and got to his knees before a foot met him in the chest, slamming him back into the fence, causing him to lose grip on his pistols. It was Evans, bleeding from a wound to his temple, Skinner noticed.

            Delacroix had become too entangled with a large brute of a figure to notice, and Skinner was grappling with his new acquaintance, who more or less growled at the invisible man in fury. He struck out at him blindly, trying to land a blow on him.

            Sawyer coughed from the kick to the chest, and only just managed to avoid the next one aimed at his face, ducking, and then throwing himself into Evans bodily. The two went down in a heap.

            Skinner was caught unawares, and something hit him before he succumbed to darkness, and remembered nothing further.

* * *

            His chest burned from the blow, and his mind tried to make sense of what had just happened, but it failed miserably. Instead, he just concentrated on punching Evans in the face as many times as he could before his strength failed.

            That was approximately seven times before Evans kneed him in the gut painfully, and he rolled over onto his back, gasping, before a foot slammed into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him at once.

            "Tom!" he heard Anise cry through his haze of discomfort, and opened his eyes just in time to see the polished shoe coming straight for his head. He rolled over again as quickly as he could, and scrambled to his feet, slightly dizzy. 

            He heard his name called again, and looked up as Evans approached angrily to see Anise throw something his way. It sailed over Evans' own head, and Tom caught it in both hands, spinning it skilfully until the barrel met the Englishman's face. He stopped at once, and eyed Tom sceptically.

            "You wouldn't dare."

            Tom raised his eyebrows, panting, his ribs aching slightly with each breath he took. "No?" He remembered the threats Evans' had thrown their way, the dogs as he'd killed them. "Shall we test that theory?" 

            Before Tom could pull the trigger though, a huge bestial roar met his ears, and a pounding could be heard as Hyde entered the scene in a rage. Bats exploded into the area from all around, and the confusion gave Evans just the oppurtunity he had been waiting for.

            His hand snatched the barrel of the gun, aiming it off into the sky as it fired, and his fist slammed into Tom's jaw, throwing him to the ground forcefully. Tom closed his eyes as colours swam deliriously in them, and he groaned as everything went suddenly quiet. 

            Running stopped at his side, and a hand touched his arm. "Tom? Tom, are you all right?"

            Anise... she was okay. Tom opened his eyes slowly, and looked up at her in mild discomfort, and nodded. "I'm fine."

            Mina Harker was at his side too then, and she looked into Tom's eyes. "Are you hurt?"

            "No," Tom told her abruptly, wishing she would go away and mind her own business. He got to his knees, and then used his hands to push himself to his feet carefully, still a little light-headed from the blows Evans had landed on him. Anise touched a palm against his cheek softly, and Tom met her gaze. She was practically in tears. "Oh, god, I thought he was going to kill you." She smiled despite her statement.

            Tom winced slightly, subtlely so Mina wouldn't bother him with questions, and replied, "Sure seemed like it for a minute there."

            Anise had pulled him tightly into an embrace before he could do anything to stop it, and he gave a gasp. She drew back from him at once, appearing guilty. "You're hurt."

            "It's nothing," Tom stated, holding a hand to his stomach. 

            Hyde paced over, and grumbled, "Henry will want to confirm that."

            Tom looked up at Hyde, then at Mina who was staring at him defiantly, and sighed. "Fine." Something struck him then in his mind, and he searched the ground and surrounding area at once.

            "What is it?" asked Anise.

            "Skinner," Tom informed her and the others, "he's around here somewhere."

            "Oh, I didn't know you cared," groaned a voice from a little way off to the side. The fence rattled as if a hand had groped against it, and then Skinner's voice was heard again, "That was bloody cheeky of him. Hit me when I wasn't looking."

            "You okay?" Tom asked with concern, wishing he were able to see his friend to confirm whatever answer he would give.

            "Nothing a little scotch won't fix," Skinner grumbled.

            Tom laughed, and regretted it. His ribs protested. He hoped against hope he hadn't broken one. "Thanks for the rescue there."

            "Anytime," Skinner offered, "that is, when I feel up to it."

            Tom smiled despite his aching, and looked to Mina, who said, "We should return to the Nautilus. Nemo no doubt heard the gunfire. He will be wanting a report."

            A hand still to his aching side, Tom walked with the others, noticing Skinner retrieved his weapons for him, pistols in his hands and the Winchester slung over his shoulder.

* * *

            Charles Evans fumed as his feet stormed the distance of his New York residence. He had let them slip right through his grasp. How could he have been so blindly confident as to the ease?

            Grumbling to himself, he resisted the urge to tear apart the person who entered the room next, very dishevelled and bloody indeed. They were a mess, and Charles wished he would leave and clean himself up before disturbing him at a time like this.

            "What do you want now?" Charles demanded furiously, turning on his heel to face the man.

            "To offer my apologies," came the thick French accented reply.

            Charles sighed and rubbed his eyes in a hurried fashion, ignoring the mad stinging in his temple. He ran a hand over the wound there, and his fingers came away scarlet with blood. He glared at it, and persisted, "And what good do you think your apologies will do me, Beauvais?"

            Jacques shifted his weight slightly, and grunted. "I will not make the same mistake again, sir."

            "No you will not," Charles confirmed, and stared at the man before him with mild disgust. "Oh for heaven's sake, will you go and get yourself cleaned up? I don't enjoy having your filthy blood all over my carpet."

            Jacques made a small noise, and looked down at the floor. Thick blood was dripping sparingly onto the otherwise spotless carpet. His eyes seemed to find his own torso, and then looked back up at Charles.

            Charles arched an eyebrow. Jacques stood before him, at least six holes visible in him. His mangy shirt and vest were turning brown from the blood that oozed from him. The man seemed to have forgotten all about the damage.

            "Out!" Charles shouted impatiently, pointing at the door to emphasise. Jacques did so, and he found himself slumping down into an expensive chair.

            Charles thanked his patience for not having Jacques ripped limb from limb for his incompetence. His job had been simple had Charles failed, and the man had somehow managed to make a mess of it anyway.

            "If I wasn't so determined," Charles growled to the fire crackling away in the wall as the light played off his features, "I would blow that ship to hell and forget all about it."

            He, of course, meant nothing other than the submarine that was perched so innocently in the docks not far from where he was now. It was tempting to load it with as much explosives as he could lay his hands on and watch as it burned, its occupants along with it. It would be quite satisfying.

            But that was not in his plan at all. No... far from it.

            He would have his way soon enough... all he needed was to have patience, and a little faith.

* * *

            "I really would appreciate it if you could refrain from moving, Agent Sawyer," Henry grumbled as he tried to determine the extent of the damage the young man had received. 

            Tom Sawyer ceased his shifting, and sighed loudly. He sat on a bed to the side of the room, his shirt and waistcoat lying messily next to him on the sheets, and stared around impatiently with green eyes. 

            Henry had been at this for about ten minutes, managing to ignore the grumbling in his head about how he could keep Sawyer from fidgeting. None of the solutions really seemed very pleasant to Henry, so he shut Edward out as best he could.

            Miss Delacroix stood near the back wall, looking very pensive and worried. Henry had noticed she could barely keep her eyes off Sawyer, but kept his nose out of it, moving along to further inspection.

            After a further ten minutes of examination, and several threats on how he would stop his shifting, he allowed Sawyer to re-dress himself. Henry went about rolling down his sleeves once again as he said, "Nothing too serious. Just some bruising. You'll be sore for a few days. Make sure you tell me if it worsens."

            Sawyer nodded as he slipped his waistcoat on, 'neatening' his rolled up sleeves. He tucked in his shirt as he replied, "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

            Henry sighed as the two left the room, and he was left to his thoughts. Edward's too inevitably, as always, as they assaulted him as soon as he was alone.

* * *

            Lethargy had taken such a sudden hold of him that he had retired to his own quarters after escorting Anise to hers. She had kissed him on the cheek in parting, and he had been standing at her door when it was closed longing for much more.

            He had come back here, hands comfortably in his pockets, and he had tried to read a little of one of Quatermain's old books before sheer exhaustion had actually made him fall asleep in the process.

            He woke some four hours later, the book laying open on his chest, and he groped about in the dark for the nearest lamp. His hand located it, and managed to avoid knocking it over before he turned it on. He squinted against the light, and looked down to his chest where the book lay sprawled.

            Tom groaned sleepily, and rubbed his eyes with one hand, the other removing the book and closing it. He yawned, and rolled over in his bed, lying on his stomach now, ignoring the dull aching. His weary eyes stared at a distant point on the far wall as he took up as much room in his bed as was humanly possible, and his mind wandered.

            His thoughts trailed back to the confrontation with Evans and his men, and how close to death he had really been... Anise too. Tom wasn't sure if the notion had frightened him or angered him... perhaps both. 

            The memory of seeing those poor dogs put down so mercilessly made Tom want to kill Evans brutally, with just as little compassion. It made him so angry he clutched the corner of his comfortable pillow tight enough to make his own hand ache. He loosened it, and sighed heavily, his whole chest rising and falling exaggeratedly. 

            Tom was suddenly, once again, very tired. His eyes were heavy, and his breathing was slowing. With the last of his conscious strength, he reached over and deactivated the lamp once again, before immediately succumbing to sleep.

            In his rush to cast the room into comforting darkness, he had failed to notice the ominous shadow in the far corner of his room, piercing gaze watching him steadfastly as he slept.


	12. Reflection And Remorse

**A/N: **This one's a long one. Didn't really realise until it was finished. Hehehehe, oh well. Not necessarily a bad thing if you like to take it down a notch... my apologies in advance for the slow pace of this one. *sigh* I am sorry. Also, hands up who wants to be in a mailing list for an update or future LXG fics from me... I already have another idea ;) Let me know in your reviews! :D Thanks to everyone again! 

* * *

            Breakfast that morning was a slow and gradual affair, where people turned up one at a time, and rather wearily at that. It was as though no one had managed to achieve perfect sleep, instead waking every so often.

            Mina had been disturbed by odd feelings most of the night, her senses playing on her mind, alerting her to a presence she could not -despite her best efforts- locate. Something had been troubling her since then, more so than the past few days, and it bothered her greatly that she could not put her finger on it.

            She was one of the first to settle into her morning meal. Nemo of course, had been present upon her arrival, as always. The man was never tardy, always first to show himself. He was punctual beyond belief.

            The next to arrive had been Dr Jekyll, who had helped himself to some of Nemo's traditional breakfast food, something Mina could not identify, and thought smelt very odd.

            Anise had made her presence felt after that, accepting the food Jekyll politely offered her. Mina smiled at her only as she felt it necessary to be welcoming, and then pretended she did not exist. The girl seemed to have everyone in such a blind stupor it was ridiculous. It was as though they were impervious to suspicion. She had just waltzed in without question and been welcomed. 

            Mina could not understand this herself, but shrugged it off with a quiet sigh over her toast and marmalade, sipping her tea without a word, even as the fourth person entered the room in high spirits.

            "Well something smells delicious, Nemo," Skinner chirped, walking to his seat without a break in his pace. "Morning everyone, how are we all today?"

            Mina gazed to her right as Skinner made himself comfortable, and found herself asking, "And how much Scotch have you consumed this morning?"

            Skinner glanced at her from behind dark glasses and grinned. "None, just yet. Give me an hour or two, and it'll be another story entirely."

            "Perhaps the blow to the head has effected you more than you thought," chimed up Anise rather unexpectedly, and Jekyll laughed lightly. 

            Skinner looked up in surprise, and smiled. "Perhaps so," he agreed, even as the door opened once more, revealing the last addition to the table.

            Tom yawned wearily as he approached his seat, scratching his head seemingly as a subconscious action, and offered a weak smile to the other inhabitants of the room. He tucked in the last bit of his shirt as an afterthought as he claimed his seat, and grabbed a slice of toast.

            "Morning to you too, Sawyer," Skinner announced, pouring himself some tea, and offering the younger man some as well. Sawyer nodded, and let out a long breath.

            "Sorry," Tom apologised half-heartedly, "didn't sleep too well."

            Anise cast a glance in his direction with a -not surprisingly- concerned expression. 

            "Most probably your injuries," Jekyll offered as he sipped his tea. "Your body was trying to adjust."

            "You're talking as though I was shot or something," Tom said in response, "you said so yourself, it was just bruising."

            "And still is," Mina interjected as she perused a copy of the morning paper collected by one of Nemo's crew. "You should be careful."

            Tom rolled his eyes none too subtlely, and sighed, his elbows resting on the table edges again, his hands knotted in front of his face. "Look, it's nothing."

            The table fell quiet after that, and none were going to challenge the vehement words Tom had just spoken. He was convinced he was fine, and the others seemed to accept this, even if they didn't believe it. They just knew better than to try and win an argument with him.

            Mina turned her attention back on the newspaper, and her eyes perused the headlines printed in bold black, skimming the paragraphs here and there for anything useful or intriguing.

            There was a small report on local animal populations acting oddly that made Mina mildly curious for a moment. She read the article, and found herself not quite so interested anymore. They were putting it down to the weather, and something to do with astrology, which wasn't really her area. 

            Turning her attention from the paper back on to her toast, she continued with her breakfast with the others sitting quietly and pensively all around her.

* * *

            Henry retraced Sawyer's steps of the previous night with the young man, the two rather quiet as they walked, unarmed other than the concealed Colt pistols at the latter's waist. They did not wish to appear suspicious to the general public, who wandered around them -and sometimes into them- as they travelled. 

            They had broken up into groups, so chosen by Mrs Harker, who seemed to have somewhat taken on the mantle of leadership as of late. Nemo and Skinner had been chosen to browse the dock and its surrounding area. Harker and Miss Delacroix were investigating the area closer to the city centre, where they would be able to use -as Skinner had so tactfully put it- their 'charms' to get information.

            Henry strode into the area where Hyde had found the disturbance the previous night, and looked into the fenced-off quarter where several dogs were resting theirselves. They looked up at the intrusion, and one pined at the sight of them and retreated into a hastily built shelter, tail between its legs.

            Sawyer wandered up to the fence thoughtfully, and stared inside. His arms crossed over his chest as he observed the animals, and Henry came over to him curiously.

            "Is something the matter?" Henry inquired. He noticed the intensity of Sawyer's gaze, and stood at a distance, not exactly afraid of the young man, but wary from experience.

            Sawyer tilted his head in reflection, and replied quietly, "They moved the dead ones."

            Henry felt the twin confusion from Edward in his mind, and chose to persist with his curiousity; "Dead ones?"

            "The dogs," Sawyer informed him with a brief glance for accompaniment. "Evans killed two last night for making noise."

            "For simply making noise?"

            Sawyer nodded with a furrowed brow, and frowned. A dog had padded forward timidly, and stuck its wet nose against the fencing to smell the strangers. Sawyer touched the fingers of one hand to the wire so the dog could get his scent. The animal's tongue thrust out lazily and licked him, making half a smile come to the man's face. He allowed himself to tickle the dog's nose and muzzle, and it panted, whether in the heat or from enjoyment Henry did not know, nor did he mind.

            Henry smiled, and patted Sawyer on the back lightly as he continued to investigate the area, which was starting to look like a sort of yard. There was litter, such as newspapers and cigar butts down here, and something Edward seemed to notice more than Henry.

            Blood. He walked over to inspect it closer at greater length as he asked, "What exactly transpired before we arrived last night?"

            Sawyer took a while to reply, but when he did, he seemed distracted, as though he were still petting the animal through the fence; "We heard the dogs making noise, and I mean a _lot_ of noise. They were going crazy, like they'd felt threatened or something. That was when Evans killed the first one, and he and some of his men showed up. He killed another dog, and Anise told him to stop it. We had a little bit of a heated discussion, and that was it."

            "A heated discussion?"

            "There was some..." Sawyer hesitated, "name-calling, I suppose you could call it."

            "Sounds a little juvenile," Henry added light-heartedly, simply glad Sawyer and Miss Delacroix were unharmed. There was a lot of blood here.

            Sawyer laughed quietly. "Anything but. Anise got quite angry with Evans."

            "She did? Do the two have a history then?" Henry crouched to inspect the blood, some of which hadn't fully dried yet. With the amount of it present, he wasn't surprised. 

            "I think so." Sawyer had left the fence, and came up beside him now. "He asked about her 'investigation'. I think he knew she was chasing him... and me."

            "I see," Henry mumbled, taking his handkerchief from his pocket, and dabbing it against the wall, bringing it away with an impressive amount of blood on it. 

            "He was about to kill us both when Skinner threw the rock."

            Henry turned his gaze upon the younger man, confused and a little humoured. "He threw a rock?"

            "Hey, it worked," Sawyer said with a smile, looking around the floor before shoving something with his boot. Henry's gaze followed the kick, and he saw an impressively sized stone wobbling from the shunt. He moved to it, and examined it. He put his handkerchief in his left pocket, and withdrew another fresh one from inside his jacket, wiping more blood from the surface of the makeshift weapon.

            "I wonder who moved the dogs," Sawyer mused quietly, looking back over to the enclosure, narrowing his eyes.

            "Most probably an owner from one of these buildings. Maybe they all keep their animals in the same area for safekeeping."

            "Not so safe after all," Sawyer corrected.

            "Apparently not," was Henry's agreement as he placed the second cloth in his right pocket, separate from the first. He would have Mrs Harker examine it at length with him back on the Nautilus. 

            The two men fell quiet as their investigation of the area continued.

* * *

            Jacques Beauvais ached all over as he patted down the last of the soil on the small grave. If Charles knew what he was doing out here, he would have Jacques exterminated. He would consider him weak and pathetic. 

            Who was he to leave those dogs to rot in that cage? He wasn't just some animal like Charles seemed to think. He had compassion, albeit in small doses, and he cared for creatures such as the ones put down by the other man not twelve hours ago.

            Jacques had been lucky not to be spotted by Charles when leaving the mansion, and had decided against taking the animals back through the building. He had carried them over the high wall into the grounds, and buried them at the foot of the impressive garden, in a flowerbed that had been ignored for some time. 

            Jacques hoped Charles did not suddenly feel the need to have a little scenery in his gardens, or the graves would be discovered.

            But why had he taken such pleasure in destroying the animals? In front of Jacques and the others as well... he should have known better. There was talk. Talk that Charles did not care for them as much as he claimed. Talk that he would betray them when he had gathered what he wanted.

            He was not the only one concerned, he knew. There were many like him. Many that had looked upon Charles after escaping the fight and regarded him with hidden disgust, even fear.

            If Jacques and the others made such a disturbance, regardless of the importance, would they be put down so heartlessly?

* * *

            The marvel that she was able to walk unharmed in sunlight had always been a great blessing to Mina, and she revelled in its intensity as she made her way back to the Nautilus, the girl behind her somewhere, taking in the sights with a childlike awe.

            It was no different than any other city, so what had her so fascinated? It was growing quite aggravating. She even quickened her pace to try and indicate that they weren't here for their own leisure. They were here to do a job.

            Finally, the girl seemed to realise they had a schedule to keep, and came up beside Mina, and asked, "Have you visited America before, Mrs Harker?"

            "I have, on a number of occassions," Mina replied haughtily, and glanced about. They were approximately ten minutes from the Nautilus at their current rate of travel. They were making good time. They would be able to report what they had found to the others soon enough.

            "And do you like it?"

            "I beg your pardon?"

            Her face was like that of some child when they opened a gift, and she restated, "Do you like it?"

            "It is simply another country, with more people, Agent Delacroix, nothing more, nothing less." She could have looked upon her behaviour as rude and abrupt, but if the girl insisted on asking silly questions, she was going to get less than polite responses. It wasn't Mina's job to make her feel welcome. Sawyer seemed to be doing swimmingly on his own.

            "You have no opinion?" Delacroix inquired lightly, and when Mina turned to look at her, she noticed the younger woman wore a smile.

            "I have my opinions, but they are my own, and not often shared," Mina informed her.

            "And why is that?"

            "Because, Miss Delacroix, you will quite often find that not everyone thinks the same way, and arguments and disagreements can soon break out, some ending rather badly."

            She picked up her pace a little then, hoping this would finalise the discussion, but she was surprised to find that the girl was at once by her side again, more confidence in her words as she said, "You are referring to your fight with Tom?"

            "No," Mina replied at once. "It was merely a statement."

            "Why did you have an argument? Was it about me?"

            Mina couldn't believe the ego of this woman. "No it was not. It was really quite private."

            "I could just ask Tom what happened," Delacroix had the nerve to say, even though she added it quietly as though she thought Mina would not hear.

            _Silly girl_, Mina thought with a scowl into nothingness ahead, _she knows of my heightened senses._

            "Oh, yes, by all means, run off to poor Tom and ask for his version," Mina scoffed, rolling her eyes from behind the webbed veil of her hat.

            "Why is it that you are so rude to me, Mrs Harker, if I may be so bold?"

            "Rude? You find me rude?" Mina asked of the young woman coldly. "Oh, then I must apologise, because you see, I find it very hard to trust complete strangers. I'm unusual that way."

            Delacroix furrowed her delicate brow in what looked to be feigned upset. "You do not trust me..."

            "No, to be quite frank, I do not," Mina assured her, and even stopped in her walking in the middle of the street to emphasise this by turning on her. She was a number of inches taller, and her shadow fell over the younger woman's face. "In my opinion, you have simply invited yourself along on our mission, hoping to aid your own on the way, whilst making your feelings about Agent Sawyer more than public attention." She scowled. "Why, I'm quite surprised I haven't yet found the two of you kissing at the dinner table like the love-sick children that you are!"

            Delacroix did not waver beneath this attack, and retaliated, "And why does this bother you so? Why do you let it matter? I would be quite interested to know why you seem so intent on making me feel most unwelcome."

            "Because, dear girl, as you said, I do not trust you, nor frankly, to be brutally honest," she paused, perhaps for dramatic affect, "do I like you, Agent Delacroix."

            "Well that is really not of importance, is it, Mrs Harker? You see, the others have made me feel most at home onboard the Nautilus, and if I choose to stay, then I shall do so. Tom has made it very clear I would be welcome." Was that triumph on her face?

            _How dare she?_ Mina growled in her mind, wishing nothing more than to slap the girl for her impertinence.

            "How very sweet of him," Mina rejoined quietly with one last glare, before she turned back on her previous path and continued on her way, knowing with a sense of begrudging that the silly girl would follow, if at a distance.

* * *

            Anise reeled internally from the clash with Harker, and took only some small satisfaction in the fact that the older woman had gone very quiet after her tale of how Tom had invited her to remain with them. 

            Words from the heated discussion flowed in and out of her thoughts, and one phrase stuck there after a while; _'How very sweet of him'_.

            So it had been Harker to shoot Tom down as he had stated a few nights previous. She had been the one to tell him that this trait was not a positive thing. 

            Anise found herself scowling at the back of Harker's head then, and she was quite tempted to throw something at the spot she concentrated on. She resisted with some difficulty, and wondered how anyone could deny the charms of Tom Sawyer. He was a compassionate, honest and sensitive man, whom anyone should have felt honoured to have the attention of.

            But then, Anise supposed, women like Harker probably scrounged for the attention of snivelling, vain gentlemen with more money than intelligence, ones whose own portraits adorned their wealthy abodes, and men who liked to bore their company with tales of their own implausible greatness.

            Ignorant, self-centred, and impossible to admire or grow attached to sincerely. That was how Anise categorised such 'men'... such creatures so full of pride and undeserved sense of self. 

            No, to her, men were something to be respected for who they were and what they accomplished. Men like Tom Sawyer. He was brave, noble and considerate, as she had seen so far. He was strong too, she could tell, but had his own undeniable weakness that he tried to hide from the world. But he had let her see it... she wasn't sure what this meant.

            What was it he thought of her? How did he look upon her? 

            She knew he admired her in some regard at least, for the kiss that night had told her so. His attitude towards her, of happiness and warmth, encouraged her to think that he perhaps more than admired her. 

            The kiss. She was still feeling the effects of this contact with him, such sudden passion that had thrown her for a loss. He had left her yearning for more of his touch, of his smell and of his taste. She had felt as though he had been what she had searched for secretly since her life had taken a turn not long ago... a turn that made her feel empty and alone. Utterly alone.

            Tom took all that away, washed it aside like the refreshing waves of the ocean as it beat against the shore. He made her feel safe, made her feel like she belonged, something she had not experienced in some time. He filled her with content and a fire that he seemed so intent on sharing. When he was with her, she did not feel so vulnerable, so cold, or so selfish as she did sometimes.

            And even as she felt all of this, she knew in part that she should not allow herself to succumb to its intoxicating highs. She was here for a reason. Evans. That could not be so easily shoved aside as an unwanted item of food. No. She had pledged herself to this, and no matter how much she longed for some peace and some security with Tom Sawyer, she couldn't help but give in to her duty. She had to concentrate.

            But there was still nothing stopping her from falling in love like never before.


	13. The Most Horrific of Discoveries

**A/N: **Okey dokey... many, MANY thanks for all the wonderful reviews. You guys are really great. Also, so far, MJ Rosemary is the only one on the update list; so they alone are receiving email updates... if you want to be added, let me know. Another note from me, I have started my own website, and here are featured some of my basis' for the original characters, including a couple from this piece. So if you're curious, feel free to take a peek. Hopefully this chapter will serve to make sense of the last few, hehehehe. Enjoy, and perhaps be stunned, I don't know. All depends how well I've done my job as the author.

* * *

            With the three separate investigations having concluded in the early hours of the afternoon, everyone had returned to the Nautilus to report his or her findings. Skinner and Nemo took their turn first, the former eager to report they had found signs of extensive animal activity, almost like a fight by the docks not far from their position. Apparently, they had collected some hair and hoped Mina could identify what kind of animals had been fighting perhaps. They weren't certain what relevance this could possibly have to their investigation, but it seemed to warrant closer inspection.

            The second to report were Jekyll and Sawyer, the latter of whom stated that two dead animals had been mysteriously removed from the scene of the previous night's encounter with Evans and his men. Jekyll seemed to think that owners may have partaken in the moving, but Sawyer was sceptical, claiming that they would move the other dogs from the area after such a killing. Jekyll however had found some blood samples that needed closer examination. There had been a shocking amount of it, and yet no bodies or signs of anyone dragging any. 

            Finally, Mina and Delacroix were forthcoming with their information that Evans and his men were apparently seen quite often in the city centre to buy goods and services. Unfortunately, those same people with the information had been most reluctant to reveal anything that would give away the whereabouts of these men.

            "They are afraid," Mina concluded with a weary sigh.

            "No shock there," Sawyer agreed, arms crossed pensively over his chest as he stood opposite her around the table. "He seems to have made quite an impression here."

            "And I suppose you'd know, what, livin' here an all," Skinner offered earnestly, to which Sawyer nodded slowly.

            "People aren't like this for no reason," Sawyer informed them. "It's unusual. It's like they're all on edge or something."

            "Can you blame them?" Delacroix chimed up. "Evans is quite fond of ensuring people are afraid of him and his men. They will do anything to gain respect."

            Nemo agreed with all of this, and started to collate it all in his mind. "And what of our findings? The hair and the blood samples. Dr Jekyll, I can assume that yourself and Mrs Harker will take care of this?"

            Jekyll nodded in acknowledgement, and looked to Mrs Harker herself, who said, "Of course, Captain. We will begin immediately."

            At that, the two left the room, doctor and chemist one after the other. Nemo looked to his other companions, all of them eyeing one another as if trying to decide what to do whilst they waited.

* * *

            Mina Harker and Henry Jekyll had been working for quite some time, puzzling over test tubes and bubbling beakers, using various equipment to try and identify the owner of the animal hair, and a potential reason for the absence of bodies in the yard where they had clashed the night previous.

            Mina's glasses were perched delicately on her nose, and she was deep in concentration. She was waiting for the results of her latest test on the blood samples to come through. She knew one to be from Mr Evans himself. So far, there was nothing unusual about his sample that concerned her. 

            The other however, was something else entirely. There was something about it that had intrigued her since she had first set eyes upon it, and when its scent had assaulted her. She had sensed that unmistakable hunger coursing through her veins at that moment, and had begun her tests at once. She did not want to give in to the urges. Not if she could help it.

            There was nothing she hated more than her vampire-self sometimes. She disgusted herself even. Mina despised giving in to the thirst that gnawed at her sometimes, craved blood, and when nothing else would satisfy that urge, she had no choice. That was when she most hated herself and that monster for doing this to her.

            Some time passed where she simply mused over her history, and how she had come to be what she now was, and where she simply listened to Jekyll's light humming as he worked quietly behind her, before her tests were complete.

            Mina's blue eyes analysed her findings, and despite herself, a small growl rumbled in her throat. She was embarrassed at once, and stifled it before it crossed her lips. 

            Jekyll seemed to hear her nevertheless, or at least he sensed her tension, and he came over to her. "What is it? What did you find?"

            "Alert the others. I need to speak with them at once."

* * *

            The room that served as their collection point slowly filled with the six individuals. They filtered in with curious and overly pensive looks on their faces, trying to decipher the expression on Mina Harker's overcast features. 

            Tom entered with Anise at his side, as was expected lately it seemed. This surprised no one anymore. The two of them were in fact the last to arrive, and Nemo's men closed the doors behind them as if on some invisible cue.

            "So what's going on?" Tom found himself asking as soon as the affirming final click of the doors was heard, and they were truly in private.

            Mina's blue gaze fell upon him, and he shuddered slightly. She looked quite intimidating and colder all of a sudden, unexpectedly, and he furrowed his brow with worry. Surely, to have her in this sort of disposition, it was not going to be good news.

            "I have discovered the reason for our friend Mr Evans having such feared accomplices." Her voice was edged as if in ice, and it sent a chill down Tom's spine with every word she spoke.

            He threw a sideways glance to Anise, who was listening and watching the proceedings with intent.

            The others were in the same way, even Dr Jekyll, who had supposedly been with Mina when she had made this apparent discovery.

            "And what reason is that?" Skinner inquired impatiently when the silence became too much for him. His trilby shifted slightly as he tilted his head, the wide peak casting the substance on his otherwise intangible face into shadow. 

            Mina looked to the floor. "I have examined the blood from the scene at great length."

            "Evans' blood?" Tom queried.

            "No," Mina responded coolly and calmly, "Evans' blood is quite normal, I can assure you. This sample troubled me from the moment I saw it, from the second I first sampled its scent."

            "You didn't drink any did you?"

            Mina's head snapped in Skinner's direction, and Tom even detected a snarl as she moved, her features sharp and fierce now. Her eyes visited a place between red and blue for a second, before Skinner backed down, and the woman composed herself once again.

            "My apologies..."

            "No, it's quite all right," Skinner mumbled, "I enjoy a good chill every now and again."

            Even though it was very subtle, Tom identified the fear in Skinner's tone, and comprehended this sudden feeling. Mina was acting very strangely.

            "The reason is one I should have known at once," Mina continued with a sense of longing in her voice, "one I should not have relied on science to grasp."

            Nemo shifted slightly, and his sword clattered quietly against its ornamental scabbard at his hip. This was the only noise in the room other than Mina's words.

            "Many years ago, my husband and I encountered many foul creatures, some too terrible to speak of," Mina reminisced, as though she was no longer in the company of the League, and quite alone with her thoughts, "but some horrors are too great to ignore."

            She paused to take in the expressions on their faces, and then persisted, "One of these creatures troubled me greatly, for its power and malice were like no other, comparable only to Dracula himself..."

            Mina had trailed off at the sound of her own voice speaking the vampire's name. Tom swallowed, his throat suddenly dry, and wished for nothing more than a drink to quench his mysterious thirst. 

            Mina took in a deep breath, and then continued with conviction, "Every full moon, certain individuals turn to their most bestial urges, and become something that I have come to both respect and fear. There are some selected few who seem not to need the moon, perhaps due to medicines or development in their condition... this I do not know. But I do know they are very dangerous, and they are not to be underestimated."

            Tom cocked his head, and narrowed his eyes, his heart beating a little faster than it should have been. "Are you talking about what I think you're talking about?"

            "Yes, Agent Sawyer, I am," Mina replied hastily, "lycanthropes."

            "I beg your pardon?" Skinner questioned at once, glancing around for a sense of understanding from the others.

            "Werewolves, Mr Skinner," Mina informed him none too hesitantly, "half man, half wolf. Monsters that become all too clear when the moon is at her most full."

            "Ah," Skinner breathed quietly, "now I understand."

            "There are, as I said, only a selected few in their number who can change their form at will," Mina explained. "There are many myths and rumours. I have heard them called many things. I have also heard stories of many who could partially change at will, some all the way into their most fierce and most dangerous shape. Many lycanthropes have no control over their actions when in their bestial form."

            "Like yourself, Mrs Harker, and I mean no offence," Nemo offered impassively.

            Mina nodded with a little shame marring her face. "Yes." She cleared her throat delicately, and explained further, "I have even heard horrific tales of naturally born werewolves. These are apparently rare, but the most skilled."

            "You mean to tell me that New York is crawling with wolf-men?" Skinner blurted. Tom couldn't tell if the man was afraid. It was more than difficult to decipher sometimes what the man was thinking.

            "I mean to tell you, gentlemen, that we need to have our wits about us at all times," Mina said back to him and the others with urgency, "these werewolves are extremely cunning and stealthy. In fact..." she trailed off for a moment, "I may have sensed one last night."

            "What?" Tom uttered in disbelief, leaning on the table with his hands now, palms flat out on the surface. 

            "My sleep was most troubled," Mina said to him earnestly, their eyes locked across the room now.

            "Now that you come to mention it," Jekyll practically whispered with fright from the window, "I could not shake the feeling I was being watched whilst I tried to sleep."

            "There are no intruders aboard this vessel," Nemo told them all sternly then, "and it is impossible there ever will be. She is like a fortress. My men would see such an invasion; alert me at once. We would have known of their presence if this were true."

            Tom glanced over his shoulder to Anise, who had her arms crossed very tightly over her chest as if she were frightened to let go. Tom stood, and moved over to her as the others argued at length, and asked, "You okay?"

            Her brown eyes darted into his, and she shivered only for a moment as she said, "It is all this business with the supernatural... it only serves to unnerve me, Tom. I am just being silly."

            "No," Tom corrected with a shake of his head, "it's not silly to be scared. This is more than I bargained for when I got outta bed this morning." He smiled to try and ease her, but it didn't seem to work. She looked deeply disturbed. He stroked his hand down her arm, trying to comfort her. "Don't worry, okay?"

            Anise shook her head. "I don't know if I want this, Tom." She turned and walked out of the room, leaving him looking after her in shock. He hadn't expected her to depart like that, so suddenly and with such fright in her eyes.

            "What happened? Where did she go?" came the sound of Skinner's questions from the room behind Tom as he stood staring out of the doorway, even as the sailors reached in and closed the doors once more.

            "You terrified her," Tom said accusingly to Mina as he turned on her, not meaning to sound so harsh as he did in his words, but less than perturbed when he realised. "Why did you have to go into so much myth and legend about it? You could have just given us the facts instead of 'regaling' us with some horror story. The only thing you left out was their eating habits."

            Mina glared. "What I mean to do is only prepare us for what we are facing, as you very well know. Your affection for Delacroix has only blinded you to the truth that there is great danger here, to everyone in this room."

            "Oh, spare me the righteous speech," Tom retorted quickly, waving his hand at her as he narrowed his eyes with impatience. He was barely aware of the fact that all eyes in the room were now on their exchange.

            "This is neither the time nor the place for such a debate," Mina said to him.

            "I don't give a damn," Tom said to her. "You know what? I'll bet you exaggerated your story just to scare Anise. It's no secret you hate her..."

            "Oh really," Mina snapped with a loud sigh, "you think my sole purpose for this gathering was to intimidate the girl?"

            "She is _not_ a girl."

            "Woman, then... you think my intention was to frighten her away? Perhaps next you will accuse me of being jealous?" Mina raised a feminine eyebrow, possibly in ridicule.

            Tom opened his mouth to retaliate, but simply exhaled loudly in disbelief at her accusation, and stormed from the room, not able to care less how juvenile they considered him.


	14. Duty To Perform

**A/N: **Thanks for all the reviews. I'm glad you're all being positive about the werewolf thing, and I'm glad it pleases. I noticed after I started this it wasn't an entirely original idea, but hopefully my twists and turns will be :D Thanks again, and enjoy!

* * *

            Charles Evans sat in front of the fire, his thoughts numbing his mind to everything around him other than the crackling hot flames in the wall before him, the glow filling him with a sense of hope and promise he had lost after the encounter in the back yard near those dogs.

            If there was nothing he could stand less, it was unnecessary noise, and those filthy animals had most certainly been providing just that which irritated him most. Such had been his reason for exterminating two of them. It had kept the rest quiet after all, and his men in line. They knew his methods.

            Not to mention, it had filled the boy, Sawyer, with a sense of silent fear that had thrilled Charles more than he could have imagined. It had made him want to laugh in the boy's face. Of course, seeing the arrogant lack of what he had been revelling in when the gun aimed squarely at Sawyer... now _that_ had most definitely angered Charles. Such a sudden change in emotion had stunned him for only a moment. 

            He wanted Sawyer afraid. Oh yes, nothing else would do.

            Charles smiled at the flickering flames, and sighed a sigh of content and relaxation at the heat that washed over him. His men were patrolling the city as he sat comfortably with his thoughts and imaginings. His men were ensuring that the little League did nothing out of line.

            Charles would have hated nothing more than to have to exterminate them all.

* * *

            Tom walked down the corridor of the Nautilus, Mina's words still fresh in his mind. Of course he didn't think she was jealous... did he? He wasn't so certain of that. Maybe he _wanted_ her to be jealous, who knew?

            Tom didn't, that was for sure. He wasn't certain what he wanted, except for one thing, and that was to ensure Anise was all right. She had reacted very badly to that which Tom had long ago made himself impenetrable to.

            Werewolves though... he had heard stories of such creatures back when he was a kid, but never in his life until now had he thought them even marginally possible.

            Of course, there were people such as Jekyll, Skinner and Mina to remind him otherwise. One, invisible to the naked eye unless so desired; one both man, and monster, changing at the simple ingesting of an elixir; and the other a creature that enjoyed nothing more than sucking on others' blood in the night when her hunger was unbearable.

            Tom often wondered what would transpire if Mina's hunger became too much when they were all trapped aboard the Nautilus at sea. Would she give in to the urges? Tom suddenly realised he didn't want to think on that.

            He was outside Anise's room, and even as he reached out to knock, the door opened, and her head emerged to see him standing there with his hand raised. He narrowed his eyes, and stammered for a moment, before saying, "How did you..."

            "I heard a noise," Anise assured him quickly with the haunting of a smile. "I thought it could only be you, and maybe I should save you the trouble of knocking."

            She pulled back the door for him to enter, and after hesitating on the threshold for a moment, did just that. He looked around, seeing the usual styled quarters that Nemo granted his guests. Tom remembered his own being very similar to this at first, and smiled as he recalled it slowly degrading into what he had been tempted to clear not long ago.

            Anise crossed to her desk, where it was clear she had been sitting, and reclaimed the chair without a word.

            Tom eyed the back of her head with concern, and asked, "Are you all right?"

            "Not really," she murmured, never turning her attention from the wall before her. "I am afraid, Tom."

            Tom thought for a moment she was exaggerating. People like Anise, like himself... they didn't give in to fear like that... did they? Maybe they were supposed to.

            "There's no need to be frightened," Tom assured her quietly, frowning as he stood in the centre of the room, his hands once again finding the pockets in his pants seemingly of their own accord.

            "There is every reason to be," Anise replied almost at once, and her head turned on him.

            There was something unfamiliar in her expression that Tom wasn't so certain he liked. He frowned deeper.

            "Mrs Harker herself insists that we are all in great danger, does she not? Who am I to contradict this?" Anise stood as she spoke, and crossed her arms tightly over her chest again as if afraid she was vulnerable if she did not do so.

            "Look," Tom began cautiously, "Mina has the tendency to exaggerate on the danger a little from time to time. Nothing can get on this canoe without Nemo and his men knowing about it."

            "But perhaps these creatures can," Anise whispered, only just on the verge of audible. "I am worried, Tom. Worried for the safety of the people on this vessel." Her eyes looked into his. "I am worried for _you_."

            Tom wanted to smile at her warm concern, but stopped himself. He sighed quietly, and said, "You don't need to worry about me, Anise. I can take care of myself."

            "But you said so yourself, Tom, that sometimes the danger can become too great for one person."

            His stomach lurched as he realised what she was referring to. Huck... he tried to push it away, out of his mind, but it resisted rather unpleasantly. 

            "I know," Tom replied quietly, "I know I said that, but all we have to do is..." he paused. He wasn't sure if he should finish the sentence.

            "What, Tom?"

            "We have to watch out for each other," he completed, his eyes on the floor now, before slowly, they turned up to meet Anise's face, which was right before him. She had moved silently and without him realising across the floor to stand in front of him.

            "I promise I will do all I can to protect you," she whispered to him, and her eyes looked as though they shone with tears.

            Tom pulled one of his hands from his pocket, and reached up, gently stroking aside the tress of brown hair that had fallen across her face. "I won't let anything happen to you, okay? Do you believe me on that?"

            Anise looked hesitant to meet his gaze, and he bowed his head so that he looked in her eyes as best he could. "Do you trust me?"

            "Of course I do," was her immediate response, and her arms flung around him so suddenly he almost leapt back from her. "I don't want to see you hurt... I never want to see you hurt."

            Was she crying?

            Tom held her close to him, feeling her chest rise and fall rapidly against his with the quiet, almost inaudible sobs as they wracked her form. Everything comprehendible ebbed out of him as he embraced her, his head resting against hers comfortingly.

            "It's all right," Tom spoke softly into her ear, "we can keep each other safe." He paused. "I won't let any of these... things... near you. You can hold me to that."

            She seemed to stop crying, and he heard her voice as it was spoken against his shoulder, "I never want them near me."

            He shifted his hold on her so that it was more secure and soothing. His grip on her was gentle, yet firm, as though he didn't want to let her go inside. "It's all going to be fine..."

            Tom couldn't recall how long they stood there in the dim light holding one another, but it felt like an eternity.

* * *

            With a growl as the unusual scent filled his nostrils, Jacques whirled instinctively, letting his senses guide his eyes to the intrusion on his privacy. A form hovered in the depths of the shadows beside the building, and his sensitive hearing detected their light breathing as they watched him.

            "Do not be such a dramatiser," he grumbled, his words flowing out of him in perfect French now once he identified the scent of his companion.

            "I would never dream of sneaking up on you, Beauvais," his intruder replied, just as fluently. Their accent was smooth and flawless, and he smiled despite himself at the sound of it. "Oh, do not excite yourself at my presence. It is necessary I do this, as you well know. If it were up to me-"

            "You would not be here at all," Jacques countered impatiently, his words practically growled now. "I am very aware of your feelings on this matter, but thankfully, it is not up to you."

            "And you would have me blindly follow the man who so clearly hates our kind?"

            Jacques growled deep in his throat, forcing the lupine urges within him to be still. They obeyed for the moment. "I would have you show your gratitude to the man who saved your life. He could just have easily tossed it aside like garbage."

            "And what a blessing that would have been," rumbled the voice in response, "then I would not be cursed to live my life like an animal." Yellow eyes glowed in the shadows.

            "Tell me," Jacques grumbled with a sense of grim delight, "why do you look upon this so negatively? Others like you are not so cynical to this change. They have embraced it."

            "But I did not choose this," retaliated the voice with an edge of their bestial anger, "it was forced upon me by a slavering beast no other than yourself if I so recall."

            "And just think," Jacques said to them, as he stepped a little closer. A growl was what he received in warning to come no further, and he paid heed to it. "Without you, we would not have all that we do today."

            Jacques' small laugh made tears shine in the other's eyes, and it only increased his mirth. "Oh, please, look at yourself. You are pitiful sometimes with your compassion and your sincerity." He cut off his laughter at once, rather ominously. "If it were up to me, I would not have entrusted you with this, and we would have our prize firmly in our grasp, where it could not slip so easily."

            "It will not slip!" they assured him, though they did not sound convinced.

            Jacques sighed. "Your affection is sickening. What will you do when the time comes? Tell me this..."

            There was no response. His hand shot out like lightning and fastened in their hair threateningly. "I will tell you what you will do, and you will obey like the simple servant that you are." Jacques' now-yellow eyes took in their trembling form. "You will swallow this affection, and you will do no more than what is asked of you. You will perform that which you were entrusted to do so blindly by Charles."

            "And what if I decline?"

            "Then you will be punished." He threw them back against the wall, and heard their gasp. They stood for a long while, he staring into the darkness, and his companion's shallow breaths heard as they composed theirself. "Now..." he began sinisterly, "you will return to your duty, and ensure you do not fail. Time is ticking away, and you are showing no signs of progress."

            "I have their trust!" they snarled at him. "No more was asked of me."

            And then they were gone, as if they were never there. All that remained was a slight scent that lingered in Jacques' nostrils for only a moment, and he smiled at the fear he still managed to instil in them.


	15. I Don't Want To Be Alone

**A/N: **Thanks so much for all the reviews! Brings a smile to my face every time I get one :) See? I know I'm taking a long time, especially on the angst factor I've been promising, but I swear it's coming, and I am sorry! Don't hate me! This is a bit of a mushy chapter, but it had to be done. Sorry again! *hides*

* * *

            Her footsteps were silent as she paced her way through the Nautilus, every part of her aching in some way. Her heart, her head... everything about her seemed painful. None of this was how she wanted it. She wished nothing more than for all of this to be some huge mistake she could just forget.

            Oh, how perfect that would be; to simply go to sleep, knowing that when you woke up, everything was going to be fine.

            She found her feet wandering of their own accord towards a certain person's room, knowing very well that he may be sleeping himself. She didn't even register this as she knocked, perhaps a little too quietly. She thought he might not hear her. 

            Within a matter of moments only, a very dishevelled form appeared at the doorway, squinting sleepily against the light outside their room. He rubbed his eyes, and looked at her with more focus then, as he asked, "What's wrong?"

            "Nothing," Anise mumbled, lying. "I just... I just wanted to see you."

            Tom stared at her, bemused for a moment, and then stretched the door wide open so she could slip in under his arm. He closed it quietly behind her, and tried to find a lamp in the dark.

            "Dammit, maybe I should have done this part first," he grumbled, even as Anise reached out and lit one for him, right under his nose. He took a step back from the light as it shone in his eyes, and Anise threw him an apologetic but slightly humoured gaze.

            Anise recalled the part of her evening that had spurred her recent action. Mrs Harker had also revealed to them that the hair, which had been discovered not far from here, also belonged to the werewolves, possibly the same ones.

            She didn't want to think about that at all. She wanted to wash her mind of it all, and there was only one thing she could think of that would do.

            And he was standing staring at her, still a little drowsy from the looks of it. His shirt was creased as though he had forgotten to undress before falling asleep, though he had removed his waistcoat and tossed it precariously at the back of the desk's chair. His hair, if possible, was in an even worse state than normal, locks of it hanging disobediently in his green eyes as he watched her. 

            "You sure you're okay?" Tom probed, and almost fell over his own discarded shoe on his way to sit himself on his bed. She smiled, and then it was gone from her face again.

            "I am certain," she mumbled. "I just... did not wish to be alone tonight."

            Tom nodded, and sighed heavily, running his hands over his handsome face as though sleep wanted to reclaim him at that very moment.

            "My apologies," she said quietly, "I have awoken you."

            "No, no," Tom assured her with half a smile, "it's fine."

            Anise wasn't convinced, but walked over to him, and stood before him, staring at her own feet. She felt miserable, absolutely rotten. She wished for nothing more than to be able to share her feelings with him, but knew this to be impossible. 

            He reached out his hand, and took hers in it. "You're freezing..." came his quiet voice as he looked up at her. "Something's wrong."

            She couldn't debate this with him anymore, and gave in to what ate away inside of her, and her fingers grabbed in his hair, pulling his head back and up so she could kiss him forcefully.

            He reciprocated for a short while, before he wriggled out of her grip and pulled away gently, not sure if he should smile. He had managed to retreat further onto his large bed. Anise stared at him, she realised, with very little in the way of expression on her face.

            "Are you sure you're feeling all right?" he asked of her then, narrowing his eyes at her -what appeared to him- odd behaviour.  

            Anise knelt on the end of the bed, and offered him a feeble smile, crawling over to him, saying, "Would you rather I left?"

            Tom shook his head slowly, as if in a daze, and stared right into her eyes.

            "Then why shy away from me? Did I hurt you?" Her fingers played gently through his hair this time. She was genuinely sorry if she had, and wished to know the answer at once so she could apologise.

            "No, it's not that," Tom told her quietly, "it's just... I've never seen you act like this before."

            "Well best to see it now then," Anise whispered in his ear with a smile, a real smile crossing her lips this time. "This way, you will not be shocked in future."

            Tom laughed quietly, and let her push him down to the mattress. She hovered over him, her hair dangling very close to his face. His hands came up and tucked it behind her ears. 

            She leaned down and kissed him gently this time, to make up for her brash actions before, and lay down beside him, her right arm draped over his chest. He was so warm she never wanted to move. She realised only then that Tom's left arm acted as a cushion, and she was moving to apologise when he smiled at her. Apparently, he didn't mind. He was comfortable too.

            Sighing heavily, she leaned into him, and tried to sleep.

* * *

            Some time later, lying in the dark, Tom woke slowly and unsure as to why. He could feel Anise lying partially on top of him, and then he felt the not so steady way in which she breathed.

            She was awake.

            His fingers traced along her bare arm, and he only reached over to turn on the light quickly when she gave a dull hiss, as if in pain. The light filled the area near the bed, and he propped himself up on his available elbow, looking at her skin, where there was a very noticeable gash on her left arm that he had failed to see before.

            "Oh my god, what happened?"

            Anise sat herself up a little, pulling some of the sheets with her, and tucked her hair away from her face. She looked ashamed that she had let him see this. 

            Tom's brow furrowed with apprehension, and he looked her in the face. "When did that happen?"

            "It was when we... with Evans and his men... I must have scraped my arm on the fence. I did not want to make a fuss."

            "Are you serious? You should have said something. Jekyll could have-"

            "No, Tom, really I'm fine," Anise insisted with a light smile, "it's nothing." Then she added, seemingly as an afterthought, "I've had worse."

            Tom stared at her in disbelief for a long time, wondering why she hadn't at least told him that she had been hurt. No matter how inconsequential she thought it was, it was an injury nevertheless. 

            "I'd feel better if you saw someone about it," Tom told her sincerely. "Why didn't you say anything?"

            "Tom," was all she said at first, and her hand stroked his face as she lay back against him. "I appreciate your concern, but it is not needed. You just startled me before. It does not pain me."

            Tom was unconvinced, but what else could he do? He let his head find the pillows once again, and he stared up at the ceiling in deep thought as Anise deactivated the lamp, casting the room into darkness again.

* * *

            Anise lay very still against him; even as she felt the gentle rhythmic rise and fall of his chest that told her he was in fact deep in sleep. She doubted he would wake for some time now. He already had once, and now, when she shifted slightly, he did not stir.

            She looked at his face as he slept, amazed at how innocent he appeared, and felt the great sorrow and guilt wash over her face for what had to be the hundredth time since that evening's action. 

            Her fingers playing lightly over his chest as it rose and fell, she recalled her time with him, and how she had -or thought she had- gotten to know this man. How could she go against all of that and do what she was supposed to do?

            It wasn't just Tom either... it was the others. She genuinely liked them... except perhaps Mina. The woman despised Anise, and the feeling was quite mutual now. But the others, Skinner, Jekyll and Captain Nemo... she had nothing against them.

            She so hoped to hear something different tomorrow. Time was running out fast, and she wished more than anything that Evans would change his mind. How could he ask this of her when he had to know how she felt on the matter? How could he be so cruel?

            _He is Charles Evans_, her mind answered for her, and she sighed sadly, trying not to look at Tom at all as she thought about what she had to do.


	16. Departure

**A/N: **Thanks for the lovely reviews again. You know I appreciate them :D Well, from this chapter on, things are gonna heat up, so remember to keep checking back to find out what happens to the League... you want angst? Well... I hope I won't disappoint... there's some in the next chapter or so...

* * *

            The next day dawned with uncertainty hanging in the air, and almost at once, one of Nemo's men came into his cabin bearing a newspaper under his arm, with a curt, "Captain." He offered the regal man the paper, which he took at once with a nod, dismissing the sailor.

            Nemo unfolded the sheets from their tight bundle, and his dark eyes perused the headlines.

            He was out of his cabin at once, marching along the corridors, banging on certain doors as he went. He even poked his head in certain ones.

            "Mr Skinner, it is time to wake up," Nemo told the invisible man upon seeing the lump under the blankets, "there is a most disturbing matter in the newspaper we must discuss at the breakfast table. You must dress at once."

            Skinner grumbled something that didn't sound very pleasant, but the Captain was already on his way. At the next door, he did not barge in, he simply called through, "Mrs Harker, we have an urgent matter to deal with. Your presence is required at once."

            But she was already stepping out of her door, adjusting the collar on her blouse to hide the scars on her neck. Her blue eyes met his at once, and she nodded. "Of course, Captain. Shall we proceed?"

            Mina Harker escorted Nemo on his travels, and the next door they came across was Henry Jekyll's. When they stopped outside to knock, they thought they heard noises from inside, like a conversation set deep in motion, but Nemo decided to knock and interrupt, saying, "Doctor, you are needed at the breakfast table. We have much to do this day."

            "Yes, Captain, I will be there at once."

            They were on their way again, and to their surprise, Anise Delacroix met them around the corner. She had an almost unkempt look to her that was most curious, but Nemo shrugged it off as none of his business, and nodded to her. "We would like to discuss something with you in attendance, Miss Delacroix."

            "Yes, of course," Anise replied as if she knew what Nemo was referring to. How could she though? She had not left the ship all morning... no one had. Shrugging this off too, Nemo made his way to the last door, and rapped on it loudly.

            There was no response. Mina Harker sighed loudly, and pushed open the door without hesitation, saying, "Sawyer, out of bed, now, please."

            The thin shaft of light that pressed its way into the room uninvited shone right in Tom Sawyer's face, and he groaned and thrust his spare pillow over his head.

            "Now," Mina said in a low voice.

            "I'm coming," was what came as a muffled grumble from beneath the pillow, and Anise was heard to giggle.

            Mina shot a glare in the girl's direction, and she was silent.

            Tom Sawyer did not move.

            "Oh for goodness' sake," Mina muttered under her breath in irritation, and she strode purposefully into the room, and switched on every lamp in the vicinity of her wake. She marched right over to the bed, and tore the pillow from Sawyer's hand, revealing a very dishevelled head beneath it. There was a loud aggravated sigh, and then his head rose from his mattress, and he stared with intent at the vampire.

            "Are you happy now?" he mumbled, clearing his blonde hair from his vision, when he realised he could not see at all. He seemed to know very well however who it was who had disturbed him so rudely.

            "There is an urgent topic to discuss," Nemo called to him coolly inside the room, and then carried on his way, Mina Harker and Anise Delacroix travelling in his shadow.

* * *

            Still very annoyed at being awoken so rudely and so early, Rodney Skinner arrived in the dining area precisely five minutes after being summoned. Nemo, Mina and Anise were already present. They watched him enter, moments before Dr Jekyll marched in primly behind him.

            As usual, Sawyer was the last to arrive, and he did, in a tangle, roughly three minutes after everyone else had settled themselves around the table, somewhat on edge.

            Still trying to free himself from the mess that was his reluctant waistcoat, Sawyer landed roughly in his seat, and cursed under his breath at the piece of clothing that seemed determined to remain free of him today.

            Anise reached around his back, tugged on a snagged piece of the waistcoat, and smiled at him, as he was able to don it properly. He thanked her quietly, and then ran his fingers through his mop of hair, and rested his elbows on the table.

            Skinner always prided himself on being able to make his appearance quickly. Of course, this was mainly due to the fact that he rarely bothered with clothes, other than his coat, glasses, his trilby and his cream. It wasn't exactly what one would call an outfit. It needed very little time to prepare and dress in.

            So they sat, the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, around Nemo's vast table, and waited for the dark-skinned man to reveal his news to them, even as hot tea was served.

            Jekyll sipped at his at once, apparently a little unnerved. What had him so troubled?

            Nemo unfolded a newspaper, and slid the sheets into the middle of the table for all to see, saying as he did so, "This transpired in the night, whilst we dined and slept, ladies and gentlemen. This is not acceptable."

            All eyes fell on the paper, and Skinner swallowed at the headline; _'Brutal animal attack leaves six dead on streets of New York last night'_.

            It wasn't very pretty. There was a black and white photograph, taken with the kind of camera Dorian Gray had secreted aboard not long ago. It showed some of one of the bodies, or what was left of it. Unusually gruesome for the front page of a newspaper anyway, or so went Skinner's understanding.

            Anise swallowed, apparently dryly, and the hand around her cup shook so that it chattered against the table.

            Sawyer's eyes fell upon her with concern, and he reached over and took her hand. The cup stopped shaking. He looked back to the paper, and said, "Did they say how..."

            "They were torn to pieces... apparently," divulged Nemo. 

            Suddenly, Skinner didn't feel so hungry, even as breakfast was laid around them. No one reached for food now, not after this news.

            "Do you think it could have been Evans' men?" asked Jekyll with a quiver to his voice that made all attention turn on him. He noticed their curiousity, and cleared his throat, saying, "My apologies. I am suddenly... having trouble... Edward is being most generous with his thoughts. Some of them are none too pleasant."

            When it was clear the good doctor no longer wished to share his discomfort, they turned back on the matter at hand.

            "It is quite clear what is transpiring here," Mina offered coldly, and she scowled at the paper as if it were to blame. "Six people in one night is most unacceptable, and with our presence... we must rectify the problem. These animals must be stopped at once. We must put an end to their slaughter."

            Sawyer and Mina locked gazes for a moment, but then looked away at once, as if something had occurred between them that was most private, but very interesting. At least, that was what Skinner thought. He was suddenly curious to know what had happened.

            "Well, what are we to do about it?" Anise inquired quietly, her hand still in Sawyer's. She appeared somewhat comforted by the contact, and no one challenged this. None of them were bothered by the relationship the two obviously shared... other than Mina of course. She looked positively disgusted by their closeness, but hid it well behind a glance to the paper. It made it seem as though the expression were in relevance to their dilemma.

            "We must disperse men throughout the city in search of Evans and his associates," Nemo responded confidently, "and we must end this madness. All of them need to be... dealt with accordingly."

            "You mean they are to be killed." It wasn't a question, and Anise looked Nemo in the eye unwaveringly.

            Skinner observed her curiously. 

            "If they provide resistance, then yes," Nemo told her without foreboding. He sipped his tea. "We are to take as many of them into custody as possible, and take them for trial."

            "They're not all English," Sawyer interrupted. "I've seen one French at least. One of them looked oriental too. Are we going to take them all to their own countries for justice?" He seemed unconvinced by this course of action.

            "They must be apprehended," Mina repeated, eyeing the paper again. "I will not rest until they are removed from this city."

            "How do you think I feel? This is my country," Sawyer said clearly, and he stared right at Mina, who did not look back at him. She did not respond either. It seemed as though she was avoiding a conflict, and Skinner appreciated this. He had divulged in perhaps a little too much Scotch the night before, and suddenly felt a little nauseous as a result.

            "Very well then," Jekyll voiced, "it is decided?"

            "It is," Nemo acknowledged. "We are to venture out into New York at once. These creatures cannot be harmed by daylight, and may kill again."

            "But I thought they relied on the moon for change." Anise furrowed her brow delicately, confused.

            "In some cases, yes," Mina uttered. "We do not have time to discuss this now. They are still at large, and I for one am determined to see them all hunted down like the beasts they are before the night is over."

            _Charming_, Skinner thought. She spoke of beasts and animals, when her conduct at time was most unbecoming of a lady, or even a human being.

            With nods of affirmation, the League members departed from the room respectively, leaving the food untouched and their tea unfinished.

            Skinner was the last left in the room, and he watched them all go, sighing quietly, unheard even by vampire ears. He frowned. Something didn't sit right within him. Maybe it was the Scotch... maybe it was these werewolves. He wasn't sure, and it made his skull ache to ponder on it.

            "Oh," he mumbled after standing to leave, "maybe one bit of toast."

* * *

            Tom scoured his room for his holsters and their harness, and he tossed a pair of pants over his shoulder in his search, revealing them lying on the floor beneath the clothing. He picked it up, and looked over his shoulder at the small sound.

            It was Anise.

            "Everything okay?" he asked, even as he donned the holsters, fastening them about his back and shoulders so they would not slip. When they were settled comfortably in their usual place, he took the Colt pistols from the desk drawer, checked they were loaded, and slotted them into place. He removed a handful of spare bullets, and pocketed them. 

            "No," Anise mumbled with a frown. "I do not want you to go."

            Tom smiled at her concern. This really wasn't the time for her to be worrying though. "I'll be fine. I've been in worse situations than this, and I've always come out on top... well, at least alive anyway."

            This did not console Anise. It did quite the opposite. "But, Tom, these creatures are dangerous, very dangerous. Mrs Harker said so herself."

            "Well I don't care what she says, okay? I've got a job to do here," Tom assured her with a smile. He removed his overcoat from the rack at the side of the room. "I'm going to be fine. You'll be right there with me anyway. If I get into danger, I know I can trust you to get me right back out of it."

            She nodded, but something still bothered her. There was still a shadow to her features that concerned him.

            He slipped his arms through the sleeves of his coat with a sigh, and tucked her hair from her face. "Look... there's nothing for you to worry about. We've got the flares if we get in trouble. Someone will see, and come to help. No one's going out there alone."

            Anise smiled then, albeit wanly, a little forced. They kissed lightly.

            Tom's hand gripped the stock and trigger guard of his Winchester as he picked it up from near the door. "You ready? We'll be late... again." He laughed.

            So did she. It was quiet, but he detected it nevertheless. "I am ready."

            Tom realised then that if he'd taken a moment to look, he would have been able to see this for himself without asking. She was dressed exactly as he had first met her. The dark coat travelled like a cloak down to her calves, and her guns were at her hips. 

            "Let's go then," Tom mumbled, sticking one hand in his other pants pocket to ensure he carried spare rounds for his rifle, which he had already known. Something about the situation just called for double-checking all of a sudden, but he shrugged off the feeling, and was walking out of the Nautilus with Anise before he knew how far his feet had carried him.

            "Very well, gentlemen." Nemo's voice carried authoratively on the air as he spoke, "We are to break into two-man teams. Each pair has a flare gun, and is to signal if the situation becomes desperate. Do not stray too far into danger."

            All nodded and mumbled their agreement, and then separated slowly like a crowd that had lost interest in something all at once. The pairs took their chosen paths, and walked with purpose and caution. They were not sure if these werewolves, or whatever they were, would dare to venture out and create havoc in the daylight.

            Mina had always seemed most restrained in the daylight hours, but she was no werewolf. This, Tom knew. He wished he knew more about these strange creatures, ones he had only until now heard of in stories around a campfire. 

            With a glance to his left, he saw Anise pacing quietly and pensively. He was curious about her thoughts, but gave her the privacy she deserved, not wishing to pry.


	17. The Face of The Enemy

**A/N: **My apologies if people are thinking Anise is a Mary Sue. Ivy, if that's what you thought, I do apologise. That was never my intention. I've tried to flesh her out and give her flaws, etc. Apologies again if anyone was thinking that. Many thanks to everyone for the -as always- lovely reviews. Couldn't have been happier :D And this, my freaky darlings, is where it starts to get just a little bit angsty...

* * *

            Mina had been paired with Skinner, the man no longer wearing his hat and coat for reasons of stealth. Hopefully, if they encountered anything odd, despite the hour, they would be able to separate and use their talents to track whatever threatened.

            It was peculiar to have anything even resembling a civilised conversation with Skinner under normal circumstances, and with daylight still persistently present, Mina had decided to rest assured that her companion was close at hand if he needed her.

            He seemed intent, however, on reminding her none too subtlely of his presence. He kept on trying to grab parts of her that she saw he need not approach, and she had to fight back a warning glare into nothingness that would alarm nearby members of the public.

            Several times, Mina thought she heard Skinner's chuckle, and wished for nothing more than to strike out at where she knew perfectly well he was. Knowing this would attract the wrong kind of attention however, she held it all in, and kept walking, her senses ever alert for something foul.

* * *

            Henry strode with Nemo through the city, and his head pounded with the chattering of Edward Hyde within. It was becoming steadily more difficult to keep the monster trapped inside, or at least keep him subdued.

            For a while, Henry had thought that Edward had had an honest change of heart, that he was now willing to help others despite his past behaviour. Clearly, with new thoughts and feelings from Hyde filling him, it seemed this was not the case.

            Why even now, Henry had to bite his tongue not to lash out at the reflection he caught in every surface capable of casting Edward's face back at him, each time with a snide new remark. He seemed eager to constantly remind Henry of his cowardice, and seemed quite intent on making him angry.

            There was even the frightening thought that lingered within Henry, that Edward wished for nothing more heartily at that moment than to turn on their companion and tear him limb from limb.

            Swallowing the lump in his throat, and shaking slightly, Henry peered around with Nemo by his side, looking for suspicious characters.

* * *

            Green eyes took in the waning scene around them, and a yawn was stifled before it even began. He sighed heavily, Winchester leaned against his shoulder as they rested, ever alert in the doorway of a boarded up house on the west of the city.

            Darkness was approaching fast, and Tom's senses were starting to numb now. They had been at this for hours, and he didn't feel quite so alert anymore. He yearned to return to the Nautilus, if only for an hour, to rest and refresh himself.

            With a heavy sigh, he looked to his companion, who seemed anything but lulled. Her eyes were wide, scanning the passers-by as if she was afraid of them. Tom narrowed his eyes in curiousity, and his fingers brushed her arm slightly to rouse her.

            She started quite violently, and stifled a yelp, and looked him in the face. He smiled. "You okay? You seem a little on edge."

            She shook her head at once, and forced a smile. "No, no, I'm fine. I just grow tired of waiting. I wish we could return to the Nautilus and give up on this futile-"

            Tom held up his hand before she could finish her sentence, his eyes taking in a suspicious shadow of a man on the far side of the street. The man seemed to be staring at them, openly, not a care as to whether he was spotted doing so. There was half a smile on his face.

            With a great surge of anger, Tom recognised the man, and felt his heart quicken in shock. He remembered unloading half of his Colt ammo into the man... how could he be alive?

            But then he recalled something Mina had said about regeneration. Dorian Gray flittered into Tom's memory, and then was gone. The vampire herself was able to heal. These werewolves had to share this trait it seemed. Either that or Tom had missed, which he highly doubted as he recalled the man's shouts of pain.

            "There, across the street," Tom muttered to Anise.

            Then the man was on the move, turning and making his way down the street as casual as could be, a certain strut to his step that only served to make Tom want to blast a hole in his back with his Winchester right then and there. There were too many witnesses, he knew, too many people to frighten and alarm. 

            "He is only a man, Tom," Anise whispered back hurriedly, grabbing the cuff of his jacket as he moved to follow. He was tugged back, and he looked her in the face as she persisted, "Leave him be. We will know Evans' men when we see them."

            "And that was one of them," Tom assured her, looking down at her tightly clenched fist around his coat. She slowly let go. "That was the Frenchman I said about. The one I shot in that yard before."

            "But I do not trust this," Anise added briskly, gesturing down the street at the quickly retreating man. "I do not like how easily he was spotted."

            Tom heard her words; let them run through his mind. Maybe she had a point. But then again, how could he pass up such a clear oppurtunity to at least follow and observe the man named Jacques, someone who seemed to be so important to Evans and his plans?

            So he simply smiled lopsidedly at Anise, and exited the doorway, carrying his Winchester in such a way to make it seem casual. The people did not even take any notice of him, and for this he was glad. He fit in. He knew that. He had spent many years perfecting the art of disappearing in a crowd like this. The last thing he needed was to be noticed and hindered.

            Anise was behind him; he could hear her. Her footfalls were quiet, but ever present.

            Tom never let the somewhat scruffy man out of his sight, keeping his attention intently fixed on the man's back as he moved. He stayed at enough of a distance so as not to be noticed by Jacques.

            Tom remembered how the man had been staring openly at them before, and his stride faltered. Maybe Anise was right after all. Maybe Jacques wanted him to follow... for them to come after him.

            It was at that precise moment in consideration that Tom saw Jacques take a rough hold of a young woman by her collar and thrust her into an alley. Tom broke into a jog, and shoved his way through the thinning crowd. They called after him in aggravation. He wasn't even sure if Anise was following him anymore. Tom hoped he hadn't lost her. He would need her help if something happened.

            Fully aware of how he had carelessly followed a dangerous man into an alley before, Tom had his Winchester cocked and ready when he entered after Jacques. He could hear sinister sounds from the shadows up ahead.

            "Do not be afraid," came a hoarse voice from up ahead, and Tom's heart raced in his chest. He could hear its beating in his ears, and he forced his eyes to focus in the dim light. There, up ahead, was the clear shape of Jacques holding the woman roughly against the wall. She whimpered.

            "Let her go," Tom called calmly when at a distance to be considered a threat. He stood about six feet from Jacques now, and watched as his head turned to him.

            A growl was heard, and the eyes melted from black to yellow. Tom was startled, but never wavered in his aim... this time for the head.

            "Don't..." Tom warned, fully aware that some of these creatures did not need the full moon as tales around the campfire had taught him. "I'll fire..."

            "Then pull the trigger," Jacques grumbled, even as his face started to contort horribly. His nose and mouth elongated into a gnarled muzzle, and he gave a grunt as his teeth pushed through his gums into vicious fangs. 

            Tom raised the gun a fraction of an inch, still aware of the young woman present in the werewolf's grip. It was hard to tell whether she was crying or not.

            Jacques' shirt began to tear from the strain underneath it as his chest broadened, and there was the audible cracking of bones as his form changed drastically. His arms stretched, his fingers elongating into spindly claws, the palms of his hands now a good size larger than Tom's. The legs thickened like trunks now, and there was another crack of bone as his knees snapped backwards. Jacques had kicked off his boots to reveal huge padding feet with claws and muscles clear beneath the skin. Instead of the paleness that had covered him before, Jacques now became considerably darker, not only due to the thick hair that had begun to sprout from every visible area, but also because his skin was becoming like coal.

            Jacques bellowed deafeningly, and Tom winced, ashamed to admit even to himself that his hand trembled slightly.

            "Let her go, dammit!" he yelled at the monster that loomed before him, now bordering on seven feet.

            It growled menacingly at him, and flattened its drawn out tufted ears in warning that he was no longer amused.

            Tom fired the rifle; his aim for what had been Jacques' head now off, the bullet ripping through the shoulder of the animal. It yelped loudly, and the girl dropped to the floor. She scrambled out of the alley, wailing in horror.

            His eyes did not follow her, and neither did Jacques'. They were locked in each other's gaze, both daring one another to act. Tom was glued in place, some unknown force keeping him from moving, even to protect himself.

            Jacques, however, seemed to have other ideas, and a great sinewy arm rose to strike.

            The rapid firing of bullets disrupted the werewolf's action, and the beast shrieked with pain and withdrew quickly, leaving behind it a great sense of tension in the alley.

            Tom whirled at once, his hair flying across his eyes, though he could still clearly see Anise with her pistols drawn, mirroring his mental image of when they had first met. She looked a little shaken, but there was an odd resolve on her face.

            "Go," she told him sternly, but with a fear in her tone that confused him, "don't let him get away. He is wounded now, it should slow him."

            Tom nodded, unsure of what else to do, and took off at a bolting run after the retreating form of Jacques.


	18. Pursuer And Pursued

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews, guys. I promised angst, and here it comes!

* * *

            "Damn you, Evans," Anise cursed under her breath, which came in rapid bursts. She did not want to proceed. She wanted to stay firmly rooted in place here. But she knew that if she did not move, Tom Sawyer would be killed brutally by Jacques.

            With a final curse of the Englishman, she took off to her preordained destination.

* * *

            Jacques looked over his shoulder, his vision impeccable in the failing light, and sniffed the air briefly. Good, the American was following him. 

            Growling deep in his throat, perhaps in satisfaction, or maybe in anger or pain, Jacques pushed on to where he had been instructed. His senses worked in overdrive, keeping him aware of the young man's position and distance.

            He didn't want him to get too close. Then again, he didn't want to leave him behind either.

* * *

            Panting with the strain of running to keep up with the creature, Tom dare not let his eyes waver for even a moment. He scrambled over fallen trash containers, and dodged stray animals, some hissing and others scampering away in fright and shock.

            His Winchester was still in his hand, and confident again with the animal's back to him, he paused and took a shot, hearing it ricochet. He had missed.  Cursing quietly, he pressed on in pursuit, wondering where it was planning on going exactly.

            When he rounded the corner, he heard the clatter of a door. The monster had taken its retreat inside of a rundown building to Tom's left, one that he ran his eyes up in consideration before choosing to follow with caution.

            Tom felt his heart beating violently against his chest with anxiety and anticipation as he made his way through the house. The smell of mould and dust lingered and made him want to cough. He choked it back, not wishing to reveal his position to the lurking predator.

            _What I wouldn't give for Quatermain right now_, his mind chattered. He made a point of ignoring his thoughts, concentrating on everything around him, taking it all in and cataloguing it in his memory should he need to make a quick exit.

            He listened intently for small sounds that could be the skulking Jacques, and he heard the creak of a step up ahead, then the rushing as something clambered up them.

            Tom would not give in to the sudden fear that chewed away inside of his gut, telling him to turn and leave the building, even fire the flare. His pride made him come to the foot of the somewhat dilapidated stairs, where an old umbrella at their top fell noisily down one step at a time, clattering around Tom's feet after what seemed like an eternity.

            Tom stared at it, and then remembered his need for vigilance. Swallowing against his apprehension, he climbed the steps slowly, his rifle aimed up at the next level. There was a shuffling from up there, and then a thud as if something fell to the floor.

            _Get out_, Tom's mind told him pointedly, _get out now... something's wrong._

            Steeling his resolve, Tom completed his mounting of the stairs, and turned quickly, gun ready. He was holding his breath without realising it. Something terrible lingered up here, waiting for him, amidst the ruined furniture and the dust and bad memories, and he didn't know where it was, and how intent it was on ending his life.

            Forcing his feet to move on their way down the hall, filled with saddened portraits and creaky floorboards, Tom whirled at the slightest noise, his imagination playing on him when he was convinced he saw the flash of bestial eyes at the end of the corridor. He fired in panic, noticing afterwards that it was merely the face of a clock that had caught the light from the street outside. The glass tinkled to the floor, and he cursed his behaviour.

            The room up ahead... there was another noise, like something moving about, yet trying to be quiet. The floorboards made this very difficult for even the stealthiest of creatures. Skinner would have had a tough time with sneaking about in this haunting fortress of mystery and imminent danger.

            Tom used his foot to shunt the door so that it swung slowly on its dilapidated hinges to reveal a room half revealed in musty lamplight.

            Lamplight?

            Against his subconscious voice warning him away from such action, Tom stepped into the room a little, frightened to find it empty. Or so he thought.

            When a tight grip latched around his trigger hand, his only instinct was to squeeze, letting off an explosive shot that shattered a table across the room. The grip tightened like a vice, and he felt the circulation to his wrist cut off, causing him to loosen it. Another hand came round and wrenched the rifle from his hold, throwing it far across the room with a clatter.

            Before Tom could turn to face his attacker, the left arm that had been recently gripped was forced behind his back so hard he thought it was going to break under the strain. He gasped and winced at the pain, and felt his right hand released, even as something was clamped over his mouth and nose, something he soon realised to be a damp thick cloth.

            His released throbbing right hand shot up to the attacker's wrist holding the cloth, when he comprehended that its sweet smell could be nothing innocent.

            He struggled as best he could against the iron grip, and tried to cry out through the cloth, its odour now making him want to gag. His vision blurred, and he kicked out against a bookcase next to him, slamming himself and his attacker backward into the wall and a mantelpiece above a burned-out fire in the wall. Something fell to the floor and smashed loudly.

            Tom felt his strength failing him fast, and he tugged as hard as he could on the hand holding the cloth, his senses numbing, his mind fogging over almost completely now.

            Even as the last of his strength failed him, he thought he heard a voice speak to him softly as the comforting black of unconsciousness claimed him completely.

* * *

            "I'm sorry, Tom."

            Blinking back the tears she wished to shed, she felt his struggles stop ultimately, and his body go limp. All tension from his limbs was gone, and his head lolled against her arm. She removed the cloth from his face at once, and in shock as to what she had done, she released her hold of him entirely. His unconscious form fell to the ground, and he did not move.

            Her brown eyes stared down at him in horror, and she looked at the damp cloth she still held in her left hand, her breath coming in short, gasping bursts. A tear tumbled from her eye. 

            Maybe she could hide him before they arrived, before-

            "Ah," came a mysterious French voice from the doorway, their form shrouded in shadow, "I see we have succeeded in our little performance."

            Anise Delacroix looked up at Jacques Beauvais in a contained rage, and her form shook before her eyes flitted down to Tom Sawyer's still body again as he lay unaware on the floor in front of her.

            "Oh, do not worry yourself with his health, Anise," Jacques chided as he stepped into the room. His shirt and trousers were torn in places from his transformation, and there was blood showing from bullet wounds that would heal in time. Beneath could be seen the scars that were already quickly healing from when Tom had shot him several times before.

            "How do we know this will not harm him?" Anise whispered back in her native tongue, tossing the cloth at him, watching with irritation as he caught it with alarming ease.

            Jacques sniffed the cloth and grimaced, wrinkling his nose with distaste. "Did you use the amount Evans advised?"

            Anise suddenly remembered the stinging in her back from when Tom had struggled, slamming her against the unstable mantelpiece. She eyed the broken glass container, or what remained of it and its contents, on the floor.

            Jacques raised a thick dark eyebrow in curiousity.

            "He put up quite a fight, I see," he murmured in only minimal interest.

            Anise nodded, and crouched down beside the shallow-breathing form of Tom. She had been assured he would wake, no doubt groggy, but perfectly unharmed by the substance. He seemed only to be sleeping peacefully as she stroked back some of the hair that had tumbled across his brow as he lay on his stomach on the floor.

            Jacques sighed loudly in impatient disgust, and sneered, "Your affection for the boy is most unprofessional, Anise."

            "He is not a boy," she retorted, suddenly unafraid to show her anger with him for agreeing to go along with this plan.

            Jacques came to loom over her and Tom's body. "He is young, and that is all that concerns me. What concerns Evans is that we are not late. We must be going, Anise..." he chuckled as he said, "Do you think you can manage to carry him?"

            She was far from ashamed to admit that she growled at his mocking, and she stood, her fingers twining in the back of Tom's jacket and shirt collar. She effortlessly lifted him one-handed from the floor... at first. After a while, she was forced to use both hands.

            Jacques rolled his dark eyes, and moved over to her, taking a rough grip on Tom and throwing him over his broad shoulder, now partially exposed due to the change he had undergone as part of their lure.

            Anise walked behind Jacques out of the rundown building, trying not to look at Tom's unconscious form as they moved, trying to think of anything else but her betrayal of his trust.


	19. Betrayer And Betrayed

**A/N: **Thanks for your reviews again, guys. I was very pleased when they started to arrive *grins like a maniac*. Some much-deserved angst in this chapter, and there are even a few owies, believe it or not :O *smiles evilly*

* * *

            The Nautilus came into view as the last hours of the night approached quickly, and Mina Harker's heels did not hinder her brisk pace.

            "Oh, Mina, do you think you could carry me?" Skinner quipped with a light-hearted chuckle as they came up on the others gathered outside. They watched their approach, and Mina made a point of ignoring the invisible man. 

            She came up to face Nemo and Jekyll, and asked, "Did you find anyone?"

            "No one," Nemo reported with confusion evident in his tone. "There were none of Evans' men visible on our search. We crossed quite a distance in our task, and turned up nothing for our troubles."

            "Same here," Skinner breathed, clearly a little worn. "Didn't find a thing. Wouldn't mind some grub and a Scotch now though... everyone back?"

            Jekyll's eyes perused the crowd present, and he frowned. "We appear to be short two agents."

            Mina took in the faces of the crown, nearly all of Indian appearance, and knitted her brow delicately in puzzlement. "Did we make it clear they were to return by this hour?" 

            Nemo nodded. "We did. There was no confusion."

            "Something must have happened," Jekyll stated at once.

            "Do not jump to conclusions, Doctor," Nemo said to him calmly, turning to talk to his sailors, perhaps ask them if anyone had seen either of the two missing agents.

            Mina turned to look behind her, and all around. There was no sign of them. "There was no flare?"

            "Nothing. My men were in the crow's nest keeping watch. They say they saw no sign." Nemo came back over to them. "No one has seen them since they departed this morning."

            Mina felt a flurry of concern disturb her inside, and she forced it back down to replace it with reasonable consideration as to possible explanations. There were a number of things that could have happened.

            They could simply be late, having lost track of time for a reason Mina did not wish to ponder on. They could have become distracted. They could be engaged in conflict, and unable to launch their flare. Or they were in too much trouble to handle. 

            Mina turned to the others, and sighed. "We must depart once again and try to discover what happened to Tom and Delacroix."

            She gave very little attention to the exasperated sigh of Skinner from beside them, as she said to him, "Dress yourself. We will need to ask questions, and you should be seen."

            "Aye, aye," he mocked, and walked into the Nautilus to pay heed to her command. 

             If he did not hurry, Mina fully intended to march in there after him and drag him out by his ears if need be. She wanted to waste no time in discovering an explanation for their absence. 

            If they were in danger, they would need help as soon as they could get it.

* * *

            Charles Evans' head snapped to face the door as it clicked open. What walked in made a grin spread across his face in a matter of seconds. He laughed quietly beneath his breath, and stood in the glowing from the fire, clearly illuminated in his prim and neat grey suit.

            Jacques and Anise strode into his presence; over the man's shoulder was a limp form. One Charles recognised no less. It was Special Agent Tom Sawyer, the very guest for whom he had been preparing.

            "At last," Charles sighed, even as Jacques let Sawyer fall off his shoulder to the floor. "I want him unharmed, Beauvais, remember that."

            Jacques nodded once, and looked down at the young man lying now on his back on the carpeted floor. He did not stir. The dark eyes came back up to meet Charles', and the firelight was reflected in them eerily.

            Charles cleared his throat impatiently, and raised an eyebrow at the mess in which Jacques represented himself. 

            "I am not to blame, sir," Jacques began, waving a hand half-heartedly at Anise, who lurked at the edges of the room, Charles noticed. "This American shot me, and then Anise decided to follow suit, rather unnecessarily I might add."

            "You moved to strike him," Anise countered heatedly, standing up straight now at the challenge. "I do not remember that being in our plan."

            "I was seeing if he was intimidated," Jacques explained lazily, "I would not have harmed him. The price to pay for that would have been too high, even for me."

            "You're not wrong," Charles warned, perhaps reminding them both as to his presence. They looked at him in surprise, and backed away from their personal conflict. The two had never got on well, and always clashed. It bored Charles now.

            "What would you like me to do with him, sir?"

            Charles stared at Jacques for a long time, considering this, and then down at Sawyer, a smile creeping onto his face. "I would like to speak to the boy the moment he wakes... leave him here. Just," he paused, taking in a deep breath of inner triumph, "make sure he's secure."

            Jacques nodded, and made to go about his task without question.

            Anise looked Charles in the eye only when his attention was diverted. The moment he looked to her, her gaze shot away. He sighed. "I warned you, Anise. I warned you against it, and still you ignored my cautions."

            "You did not tell me who he was, what he was," Anise murmured.

            "You knew perfectly well what I planned for him, Anise," Charles grumbled, his patience on this matter wearing thin, "and still you allowed your feelings for him to grow beyond the border of simple business. You let yourself fall for him."

            Anise looked to him quickly, as if he had dealt her a blow.

            "Do not look so shocked that I know, Anise," Charles said to her as he sat himself comfortably in his seat once again, "I have known you for some time now. What made you think that this time was going to be any different? You are somewhat predictable, my dear girl."

            Anise had left the room before Charles could continue, and he cast a half-hearted glance at Jacques as he secured Agent Sawyer.

* * *

            Breathing heavily and slowly as he started to regain consciousness, Tom tried to remember what had happened. It was all blurred together in his mind, like he couldn't get a clear picture. He fought against the fogginess, and tried harder.

            When it came back to him, the urge to retch followed, but he bit down hard on the thick cloth gag in his mouth, and shuddered involuntarily. The smell still lingered in his memory, and how whatever it was had sucked all the strength out of him within a limited time.

            He lay on his front on the floor of a generously decorated room, where a fire crackled in the far corner. His hands were bound tightly behind his back with a strong, thin rope, and he took in his surroundings with aching eyes even as he tried to free them.

            Paintings hung at calculated intervals around the vast walls, mostly of faces that would not come into focus. The furniture was made of the finest fabrics and wood, polished and dusted with care and precision. The carpet that covered the floor beneath him was soft, but firm, and he was very uncomfortable.

            As he tried to loosen his bound hands, he groaned at the throbbing in his temples. 

            "I am told the after effects are quite... unpleasant," came a disgustingly familiar voice from a chair facing the fire, and Tom saw a figure rise from their seat. It was Charles Evans, dressed rather similar in fashion to Dorian Gray, but perhaps not with quite so much flare. He paced over to Tom with an openly triumphant look on his face, and reached down.

            It was only when Tom felt him pull him to his knees by his shirt collar and waistcoat that he realised his jacket was gone. He remembered wearing it before passing out. He had known without moving that his guns and holsters were gone.

            Evans pulled the gag down around his neck, and smiled at him arrogantly. 

            For a long time, Tom simply stared, trying to force down the urge to retch all over the hideously expensive carpet, and maybe even Evans' shined shoes. The thought tempted him, but despite that, he found himself saying, "You planned this all along."

            Something had clicked in him, but he wasn't sure what it was. He just knew his statement to be true, even before Evans started nodding.

            "I won't deny it," Evans stated blandly, standing before him with an aggravating sense of superiority about him.

            Tom closed his eyes as the nausea rose up in him again, and he grimaced.  "What did you do to me? What was that stuff?"

            "Ah," Evans breathed. It seemed he had been waiting for this question. "Chloroform."

            Tom looked up at him, brow furrowed hazily in confusion. The name did nothing to answer his question.

            "It's a substance used in surgery to anaesthetise patients," Evans explained smugly, holding up a rather large container of clear liquid. "Very effective, as I'm sure you can agree." He laughed quietly, and set the bottle down. "If inhaled, it can cause dizziness, nausea, and even coma if used in too high a dose. In extreme cases, where the user is a little eager, the heart fails."

            Tom stared up at him, the sensation finally subsiding long enough for him to ask, "What do you want from me?"

            "Well, that's really quite simple," Evans began, and then halted. "Well not really. It's actually very complicated, and rather long-winded. I'd prefer you found out in good time, Agent Sawyer."

            "Whatever it is," Tom started quietly, locking gazes with the man, "you can just forget it. I'm not telling you anything, or doing anything you want me to."

            Evans raised an eyebrow, saying, "We'll see about that, my dear boy." He leaned closer, in a low voice repeating, "We'll see."

            Tom spat in his face, watching as Evans stood, retrieving a handkerchief from his pocket. "I really hope you don't keep that up... I wouldn't want to have to hurt you."

            "Go to hell, Evans."

            What happened next was rather unexpected, considering what the man had just said to Tom. He had grabbed him quite forcefully, and thrown him across the room. With his hands behind his back, he could do very little to alter the way he landed, which was surprisingly painful. He lay on his side, hearing the dull approach of Evans, and he rolled onto his back, kicking out with both feet just in time to shove the man backwards with enough force to make him fall over a low table.

            Tom came to his knees, seeing, despite the fall, that Evans was back on his feet already. He had a hold of Tom's hair before he could do anything, and with his fist clenched tight, backhanded him around the face. He let go of his hair, and Tom clamped his eyes shut against the pain the blow caused in his face. 

            Evans laughed, a little too maniacally for comfort, and Tom pushed himself backwards and into the man as he made to grab him again, this time by the scruff of his clothing. Evans went down, Tom partially landing on him, but the Englishman shoved him off.

            Tom gave a loud cry as something slashed across his shoulder from behind, and he felt blood flow from a fresh wound, even as Evans gripped him and spun him around on his knees, looming over him with a knife in his hand and a crazed look in his eye.

            The knife was to his throat in an instant, and Tom felt the sharp blade push against his skin. Evans' other hand had latched tightly in the front of Tom's shirt, holding him up at an angle from the floor.

            "Charles!"

            The voice broke Evans' concentration on his bound victim, and the pressure on the knife wavered somewhat. Tom swallowed dryly and panted, physically worn and in pain after the scuffle. The knife had not been removed from his throat entirely however, so Tom remained quite still.

            "Remember the plans, Charles," came the deep French accent that Tom annoyingly recognised to belong to Jacques, the very man who had captured him.

            Evans took the sharp knife from the skin of Tom's throat, and pulled him roughly to his feet, ramming him against the wall.

            The wound on the back of Tom's shoulder throbbed at the impact, and he gasped, biting back a cry. He felt blood running from his nose now too, but with his hands tied, could do very little to stop it.

            Evans stared intently into Tom's eyes, a little of the crazed edge to them still clinging to his gaze as he stood there, very close to him.

            Another set of footsteps came running into the room, but Tom just stared back at Evans, quite intent to show the man he was far from afraid of him, despite his recent attack.

            "What happened?"

            Tom's gaze broke from the man's face then at the sound of the voice, and his eyes met a form he recognised. He felt his heart skip a beat, and his mouth parted slightly in disbelief. Every scrap of reason was gone from his mind now, replaced with confusion and hurt at the person that stood before him, unharmed and unaware of the disturbance other than the obvious noise they had created. Now he remembered the voice in his ear before blacking out in that building... he hadn't recognised it before.

            "Tom..." Anise mumbled, stepping back a small distance until she bumped into an armchair and held a hand to her mouth. Her eyes shone slightly in the pale glow of the fire in the corner of the room. "I..."

            "It was you..." Tom realised with a great lurch in his stomach at the apparent betrayal. "You did this... you knew all along."

            And then she ran from the room. Tom stared after her retreating form, and tried to breath rhythmically, failing spectacularly.

            Evans' laugh only served to dishearten him further. He hung his head for a moment, and then looked the older man in the face. "She used me... you used her against me."

            "Well done, my dear boy," Evans acknowledged with a smile of sheer pleasure at Tom's reaction. "It did take a little too long to figure out though, I have to say. If you'd have questioned her for even a moment, I may have failed."

            Tom could think of no retort, and he even ceased in his efforts to loosen the rope around his wrists. He just stood, exhausted and aching, in front of Evans and Jacques, unable to move or do anything other than stare at the floor.

            He didn't even react when Evans repositioned the gag securely in his mouth, and walked away, saying, "Make sure he's comfortable, Jacques, won't you?"

            The gruff man grinned wickedly, and reached out with a large hand to grab hold of Tom's shirt to pull him along. He received no resistance, and found that the bound and gagged man walked quite calmly along with him.

            If only he had listened to Mina.


	20. Truth Be Told

**A/N: **Wow! So many reviews *is chuffed and almost crying with overwhelming joy :D* Thanks SO much! And Sethoz, for everyone's benefit, I order you to update :P Hehehehe... I'm dying of angst-poisoning here, and yes that is a condition. I just made it up, and made it official. Thanks for all the support. I'm glad you like all the evilness, angst and such, and there is more to come ;) Enjoy!

* * *

            The vampire woman used her otherworldly senses to guide her, as the other members of the League trailed in her wake, trusting her in whatever she was doing to track their missing companions. Jekyll, elixir ready in his pocket should danger threaten, walked at the rear of the group. He wasn't so keen to be out in public... or lack thereof now that midnight had passed. 

            The feelings from Hyde churning inside of him were making him feel sick, and he wished for nothing more than to be able to slip away unnoticed and vomit in a side alley. He felt like Hyde was trying to tear him apart from within.

            Harker suddenly turned a corner after a moment of silent consideration. "They came this way... Tom first and then Delacroix. They were following something."

            Nemo and Skinner were right behind her, but something inside Henry made him want to turn and run whilst he was out of sight. And yet, swallowing his doubts, he followed them in. There were the unmistakable smatterings of blood against the far wall and floor.

            Harker crouched to investigate. "It is a werewolf. They were wounded, but that will not have stopped them."

            "What do you mean? That they're impervious to harm?" Skinner blurted in question, dark glasses turning on the woman to accompany his inquiry.

            "They are able to regenerate, Mr Skinner, yes," Harker replied without acknowledging him with her eyes. They were staring intently down the alley, and before long she had taken off at a brisk pace in that direction. "They are like myself in that aspect."

            "And like Dorian Gray."

            Mina looked at Skinner then, the hurt at the mention of a lost love clear on her beautiful face. It was gone again after a second as she remembered their latest dilemma. "They went this way," she told them, and they followed as she moved, silent and swift like a cat on the hunt.

            Henry, the feeling of nausea from Hyde's urges rising up in him again, pressed on in pursuit.

* * *

            The utter feeling of failure and defeat did not dissipate over time, nor did the throbbing in his shoulder, though it numbed somewhat. He recalled seeing people watching him as he was led to his current position, faces of all colours and nationalities. He remembered passing a large hall where two figures had appeared to be sparring, striking at each with fists and feet, before becoming more bestial in their attacks and finally launching at one another with growls and fangs.

            Closing his eyes, he let his head thud back against the solid wall behind him. He was sat on the floor of a large cell, its bars looming all around him, going right up to the ceiling, the intervals between them quite narrow. His knees were drawn up slightly, his feet rested firmly on the floor before him. His elbows rested on his knees lazily, his arms draping over his legs.

            Hanging from the manacles locked tightly about his wrists were chains that ran across the floor, and then wound back behind him. They originated from the wall, firmly in place, showing no signs of loosening. Not that he had tried. 

            Tom Sawyer felt like an idiot, a gullible one at that. He recalled quite vividly his arguments with Mina and how she had tried to insist to him that Anise could not be trusted. If he had listened to her for a minute, questioned the Frenchwoman's origins more than he had -which hadn't been very much at all-, then he might have been able to realise the danger.

            He just found it hard to believe Anise was working for Evans and his werewolves. She had seemed genuinely frightened of them. But then, she had seemed genuinely affectionate towards Tom as well.

            _It was all a trick_, his mind noted uselessly.

            Beside him lay the pathetic rag that had been intended for a blanket, stained with blood now. He had used it when he had been left alone to stem the flow of blood from his nose after Evans had struck him. It had taken some time, but Tom had eventually been able to bring the material away from his face, the blood flow stopped. He had tried to tend to the cut on his shoulder, but without being able to see it properly, his efforts had been less than successful.

            So he just sat, slouched back against the wall of his cell, the chains clattering quietly at his slightest movement. He sighed heavily, and closed his eyes again. He let his thoughts wander.

            When the sound of a door opening on the far side of the room was heard, he slowly opened his eyes, and was in disbelief as to who strode towards the cell, a key in her hand.

            He let his eyes fall on the floor in front of him, and did not divert his gaze, even as she entered the cage and came up in front of him. She offered something down to him, but without looking up, he couldn't really tell what it was. He didn't care.

             She stood there for a long time, unwavering, holding whatever it was down to him in an offer, before her patience failed. She reached down, took his hand and placed the object in it.

            It was a cup, filled with water.

            Anise turned and walked away, obviously realising she was going to get nothing even similar to a response out of Tom.

            At least not a calm one.

            Tom threw the cup towards her retreating form with all the strength he had in his right arm, mildly annoyed when it missed and slammed against the bars of the cage to her right. The contents spilled, and the cup clattered to the floor noisily.

            He stared her in the face as she turned back to him. She looked hurt, but he ignored her expression. She didn't deserve the right to gather sympathy or apology from him. Not after what she had done.

            "Tom..." she began, but he had already diverted his attention back on the floor.

            She moved over to him.

* * *

            Anise followed her feet, despite her brain telling her to simply leave him be. He was angry and hurt, she could tell that much at least. It was clear on his face, readable like the words in the pages of an open book.

            She crouched down in front of him, and tried to look in his eyes, which simply stared unseeing at the floor off behind her. It was as though he was looking right through her, as if she were not there.

            It pained her to see him like this. She didn't know what to do, so she obeyed the only urge in her that took precedence.

            She leaned forward suddenly and kissed him.

            He had shoved her back violently before she could react against it, and she stumbled.

            Something inside of her churned, and she launched at him, unable to stop herself.

* * *

            She was on top of him before he knew how to stop her, and she had slammed him down powerfully to the floor, pinning him immediately. One of her hands clutched his right wrist painfully against the floor, his other arm trapped beneath her shoulder against the wall. Her knees kept the rest of him from moving more than an inch.

            Her other hand was around his throat, gripping but not squeezing as if reluctant to suffocate. 

            Anise's eyes were changing, her teeth bared as they elongated slowly.

            Tom stared at her in horror, and struggled against her. His left hand was freed as she wavered on him only slightly, but instead of using his partial freedom to loosen her grip, he used it to clench her hand around his throat. The only pressure he applied to it was in her favour.

            "Do it," he said to her breathlessly, the throbbing in his wounded shoulder bordering on unbearable now. He thought he felt it bleeding again. It bothered him very little. His concentration was firmly on Anise now, his eyes locked intently with hers as she growled down at him.

            "What?" she hissed. It was as though she were staring down at an opponent she had successfully overpowered. She looked hungry for the kill.

            "Do it," Tom repeated, applying more pressure to her hand around his throat. He was having a little trouble breathing now. "Kill me. You know you want to."

* * *

            Her bestial urges waned slightly, and she saw what she was doing for the first time since her temper had taken over. Her eyes took in the slowly suffocating form of Tom Sawyer below her, completely pinned save for his left hand, which it seemed he was using to _help_ her.

            Horrified with herself, she threw her body away from his, and scrambled to a safe distance, breathing hard and rapidly as if in shock. She couldn't believe what she had almost done. Disgust filled her.

            She heard his coughing, and the rattling of his chains as he climbed to his knees, the rasping of his deep breathing barely audible over her own strained attempts to calm herself.

            "Why am I here, Anise?"

            The words did little to rouse her from her astonishment, and she merely half-lay on the floor some ten feet from him, her heart racing in her chest, the feral urges calming inside of her.

* * *

            "Anise," he repeated, harder and more determined as his breathing eased, "why did Evans bring me here? What does he want with me?" He looked over to her with green eyes, and took in her shaking form.

            There was a mumble of a response that he couldn't pick out, and he brought himself to his feet shakily, taking a moment to steady his body so he did not fall back down. He leaned against the wall for support, and stared at her.

            As if she realised he had not heard her, she said slowly and quietly, "He means to use you."

            "Use me how?" Tom asked, though he wasn't so sure he wanted the answer from her. Maybe a part of him already knew it, but was determined not to believe it.

            Anise did not look at him intentionally as she rose to a sitting position, her chocolate hair tumbling all around her attractive face. "He means to use you against your country, as he has me against mine."

            Tom narrowed his eyes in confusion. "What are you saying? How has he used you?" He cursed himself for the concern that ebbed into his voice.

            "Two years ago I was attacked whilst on a mission," came the sound of her strained voice, "it was Jacques. He brutally assailed me, and did more damage than any gun or knife could ever do."

            Their eyes met briefly as she continued, "He made me what I am today, and his employer, a Charles Evans from England, saw it as an oppurtunity. He used me against others like myself."

            Tom felt his heart beat a little faster as the story started to make sense. He did not stop her in her explanation however; simply let her continue.

            "Over the months to follow, I was used against operatives from other countries so they could be tricked and added to our ranks. After I was turned, I saw no other choice but to join Evans, for he would keep me safe and protected against the brutality of my government if they realised what I had become. In return, I gave him my country's secrets, my knowledge of France and her weapons and power."

            "You betrayed your country." The words had passed from Tom before he could stop them, and he saw her gaze meet his and lock there firmly. She was crying now.

            "And he intends for you to do the same, as all have before you. As I did."

            Tom's breath caught in his throat, and he stared silently for a long time as utter realisation set in. "He wants to make me like you... like Jacques."

            Anise nodded, and sobbed into her tresses of hair.

            "I won't let him do that," Tom said quietly, shaking his head. It wasn't as though he could stop it, but he had to believe he could try, that he could resist. "I won't let him use me against America."

            "You won't have a choice!" she yelled at him sorrowfully. "If you do not tell him what you know, what this country has hidden, then he would cast you out and reveal you for what you are. He would let you be killed, or worse, experimented on by your own government. Would you rather this happened to you?"

            "I know I'd rather die than be one of you!"

            Anise's eyes flashed again, but she held back her anger this time, and whimpered, "I would rather die myself than go on with this existence, Tom, you should know that. I wish I could stop him from doing the same to you."

            "You can," Tom said to her, walking away from the wall, aware of his manacled wrists once again when they prevented him from striding right up beside her. They pulled taught, and he could go no further. "You can stop it... you know you can."

            She looked to him in horror, realising what he meant.

            Tom wasn't sure why he was suggesting it; he just knew it to be true. He would rather die than become one of the creatures that had murdered six innocent people the night before. He would rather she killed him than go through anything that pitifully resembled an existence as a monster.

            "I won't do that, Tom."

            "Why not? You said so yourself you wished you could stop it... you said you wished you were dead... don't make me go through all that."

            She sobbed again, and shook her head. "No, I couldn't."

            "Please," Tom pleaded, straining against the chains locking him back. "If anything you ever told me was true, then you can do it."

            "I won't be responsible for your death!"

            Tom glared. "So everything... _everything_ that you said to me since we met was a lie."

            "No," she replied at once and there was a conviction in her tone that surprised him, "some things were true. I meant what I said about hating Evans... he is a monster in his own right. I meant what I said about wanting to stay on the Nautilus with you..." she paused, looking him right in the eye, "I meant what I said about loving you."

            She loved him? Tom faltered in his composure for a moment, and the chains fell slack behind him as he paced away a little. When had she said she loved him?

            "And I wish more than anything that I could help you," Anise continued, voice barely more than a whisper, "I just know I cannot."

            Tom let his gaze fall to the floor. She meant what she said. She wasn't going to help him, not in any way. She had resigned him to his fate already, and expected him to follow suit.

            "You can do one thing," he mumbled, moving back over to the wall, and leaning his aching head against it. He could feel the trickling of blood from the shoulder wound again, but he ignored it, pretended as though it didn't exist.

            He felt her staring at his back, waiting for him to elaborate.

            "You can get out."

            "Tom..."

            "Just leave me alone if you're not going to help," Tom practically growled angrily and sadly, eyes closed as he rested lethargically against the wall, "don't come near me again. I don't want to look at you..."

            He heard her get to her feet, and for a moment thought she was approaching him. Then he heard the clang of metal on metal as the door to his cell closed and locked, followed by her eventual exit from the room. 

            He was left in silence, his head and shoulder aching more than he knew possible, as he turned his back to the wall, slumped against it, and sank to the floor once again, at a complete loss for what he could do to save himself.


	21. Trying Not To Scream

**A/N: **More owies on the way... Thanks to everyone for their reviews. Made me happy :) I have a new story on the way, which I am now beginning to write. It is LXG, and it will be angst overloaded most probably... if things go according to the plan in my head. Not sure when I will start to upload it. It might be after this one, or in conjunction with it. We'll have to wait and see. I can tell you it will be called 'Out of Sight, Out of Mind'. Keep your eyes open for it ;) Now, on to chapter 21, eh? Enjoy, and let me know what you think. Also, if you'd like to join my LXG update list, don't hesitate to ask. Bye!

* * *

            She walked away from the room, her heart threatening to tear through the confines of her chest, her breath coming in short and rushed gasps. She couldn't believe what had just happened... what he had just said to her, and she in return. How could something like this have happened? How could she have let it happen?

            Anise knew she should have stopped Evans and his men from going through with their plan. She had known what they were plotting from the moment they had caught wind of this Tom Sawyer... since they had first heard of him and his achievements. She had known Charles Evans would want him for their little... she didn't know what to call what they were.

            _How about terrible? Atrocious? Dishonest? Murderous?_ In her mind all the words fit, they all described perfectly what she and the others did, but she couldn't bring herself to comprehend why she hadn't gone against it all.

            Was she that scared of being cast out, or even killed for what she believed in? She had led another innocent victim to Charles Evans... but this one was different. This was Tom. She had let herself fall in love with him, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't just forget that.

            "Oh, you do look so beautiful when you are angry, Anise," growled a voice mysteriously from a doorway behind her as she passed it. She was so lost in her thoughts she jumped violently, and glared icily at the intrusion.

            Jacques and a few of the others watched her, the former at the front of the collection. There were four of them in total, all male. Anise herself was one of the only females. Evans wasn't very fond of women. Anise found she couldn't care less for what he thought.

            All the men standing before her were of differing origins. Jacques Beauvais was French; there was no confusing this. It was obvious the moment he opened his mouth, which he liked to do far too often. The tallest member of the group was a young Italian man named Alessandro Bianciardi, who had a very vicious look to his lean face, his almost copper hair very feral and his grey eyes mysterious and dangerous. The third man was Spanish. His name was Paulo Cela. He was dark and handsome, but carried a threatening edge. His brown eyes were almost like a deep liquid that seemed to penetrate all, and his black hair was sat atop his head in a curled fashion that tumbled against his brow limply. The final man was the oldest, but perhaps the least intimidating. He was a German man by the name of Friedrich Bauschulte. He was shorter and slimmer than the others, as though they never gave him his rightful fill at mealtimes. He had pale eyes like ice, and his hair was greying prematurely at the brown roots.

            "Leave me alone, Jacques," Anise grumbled in return, willing her urges to change and challenge him to submit to reason. They did for the time being, and she stood before the four men, vigilant and determined.

            "Such a temper this evening," Alessandro chuckled. He was very fond of teasing the females, and he made to flirt with them on any occasion he could manage. If he tried it tonight with her, he would lose something very precious.

            She found herself eager to watch him attempt such an advance.

            "Is something the matter, dear Anise?" Jacques inquired, feigning concern with a wicked tease of a smile. He took a step towards her, and she stood firm. He had intimidated her for far too long. True, he had turned more than his far share of victims, but she decided then and there that she would not satisfy him any longer in that way.

            "It is none of your concern, nor any of your business, Beauvais."

            "Are we on last name terms now? Have I offended you so greatly?" His eyes bore into her with intensity, but she dismissed his gaze with a rivalling one of her own.

            "Perhaps you have, but when have you ever let such a thing bother you before? You always seemed to enjoy making me suffer, even in small amounts."

            "Ah yes," Paulo offered coolly, his voice smooth and seductive, "but this is different. I can sense it. It would not, by chance, have anything to do with the American I saw not long ago... would it?"

            The men laughed in jest at her feelings, and stared at her expectantly, perhaps waiting for her retaliation.

            She glared back at them with a hard resolve, and replied simply, "And what if it has? Why should you care, any of you?"

            They looked to her collectively in surprise at the venom in her tone, and Jacques smiled. "I so enjoyed the look of defeat on his face when he realised who had betrayed him so, dear Anise."

            She tried to stop the growl, but it had rumbled in her throat delicately before she could stop it. She was embarrassed, but did not show this to the men standing before her, lest they mock her for it.

            "You desire he be your mate," Alessandro said to her coolly, and he wore a grin that made her so wish to harm him. He was planning something she did not trust. "How sweet."

            "Do you feel threatened by the American, Alessandro?" Anise asked of him with half a smile. "Is it that you feel he has more to offer me than you ever will?"

            Paulo and Friedrich snatched hold of Alessandro's muscular arms and held him back. Anise smiled in triumph.

            Jacques was directly in front of her before she realised he had moved, and his voice was low as he said, "If it were up to me, I would set him loose from his cage and let the men hunt him down... perhaps give him his weapons for some sport."

            Anise lashed out at him, catching him by surprise. He was flat on his back in an instant, and she was standing over him, scowling down into his eyes. He looked back up at her, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth from where she had landed her blow, and he hissed, "I wish you had not done that. You know how I am when I am angry."

            "I do not care," Anise retorted with earnesty. "Do what you like to me. Harm me... kill me... it does not bother me anymore."

            "Who said it were you I would strike back at?"

            Anise stared at Jacques in veiled horror at what he must mean, and simply said, "Evans would have your head."

            "Would he, dear Anise? Would he? Maybe he would enjoy seeing the boy suffer... if I understand correctly; he is causing quite some concerns for Charles already. He seems most stubborn."

            Anise turned her back on him, and made to walk away.

            She heard him say, "Perhaps Evans would rather I killed Tom Sawyer."

            _And perhaps, Jacques Beauvais, I will live to see you die horribly._

            The thought carried her all the way back to her room without retaliation. She lay on the bed, and buried her face in her pillows, trying not to scream.

* * *

            She led the way into the building, her senses guiding her through the old doorway and down the dilapidated corridor. It was dark, but she could see well enough, her eyes piercing through the shadows to pick out what she needed. The others followed wordlessly and patiently behind her.

            The scents she had been following, of the werewolf, Tom Sawyer and Delacroix, all trailed up the rickety stairs, which she moved to climb. They had definitely all been here. It was odd though... her senses were confused it seemed. The oldest of the three scents was the light perfumed one of Anise Delacroix. This confused and worried Mina as she completed her climb, holding up the edges of her skirts so she would not trip on them in her heels.

            Skinner, Jekyll and Nemo came up behind her, and looked around in the wan light. Mina turned her head this way and that, noticing a shattered clock face at the far end of the hallway. It had been destroyed with a gun, almost certainly Tom's rifle.

            She pressed on, the smells all lingering and mixing together now in a confusion. Mina picked them apart, only just able to. Whatever had happened here had happened quite suddenly she sensed. The smell led her to a door, which she pushed open on its rusted hinges. It creaked ominously.

            The room inside was dusty, damp, and had been occupied recently. The lamps were still burning with an almost sinister glow. She looked about, and Jekyll and the others paced in behind her, moving about to investigate.

            "This is where it happened."

            "Where what happened?" Skinner pondered, looking down through his glasses at the carpet where there were the odd spots of blood.

            "I don't know," Mina breathed in response, her voice light and odd even to her own ears. There was something very unsettling about all of this. "But it happened here."

            Nemo walked over to an old mantelpiece slowly and somewhat majestically, that same air of importance about him as always. His boot crunched on something, and his dark eyes cast down to the floor. He took a step back, and gathered Jekyll's attention. The thin doctor crossed to him immediately, curious and concerned as to what the Indian captain had discovered.

            "Glass," Jekyll mumbled, and touched his fingers lightly to the floor, bringing them away damp. He smelt them, and grimaced at once. "Some sort of chemical. Mrs Harker?"

            Mina looked to them, and briefly glanced to the perusing form of Skinner before heeding their call. She came to a stop next to them, and looked down, wrinkling her nose slightly as the smell assaulted her even from where she stood. It was most unpleasant, a sort of sweet edge to it that served only to disturb her further. "Is there enough to collect a sample?"

            Jekyll nodded, and he and Nemo moved about doing just that as Mina paced away again. Skinner was crouching down himself now, intent on something he had discovered.

            "What is it?" Mina asked of him curiously as she walked towards him, picking her way through the odd furnishings. 

            Skinner looked to her from beneath the low peak of his trilby, and then stood, holding in his gloved hand a particular Winchester rifle.

            Mina's heart sank. It was Tom Sawyer's. "Has it been fired?"

            "How'd you expect me to be able to tell that?"

            "Open the barrel and see how many rounds there are," Mina replied impatiently, watching as Skinner did just that.

            "There's a couple missing," Skinner revealed. "But how do we know it was fully loaded when he left the Nautilus?"

            "Mr Sawyer never leaves my vessel if his weapons are not filled," Nemo divulged with certainty. Clearly he had noticed this over the past few months, and the others did not debate his word. They knew he was right.

            "So we know he fired at something," Jekyll noted, standing with a small sample of the foul smelling liquid in his hand, "but what was it, and did he hit it?"

            "It was a werewolf, and he wounded it," Mina explained, pointing out the blood droplets by the doorway. She touched a hand lightly to her brow then, a slight headache lingering.

            "Are you all right?"

            Mina looked to Jekyll with a smile, appreciative for his concern, and nodded. "Yes. There is just so much in this room... it is a little overwhelming. It is nothing."

            Jekyll nodded. He cast his eyes about with a worried expression. "So it would appear that Sawyer and Delacroix were captured."

            "How'd we know that?" Skinner arched an eyebrow.

            "Tom would never leave his rifle," Mina found herself saying as if she had known the young man longer than a matter of months. She was suddenly regretful for what she had said to him not long ago. Perhaps if she had been a little more supportive, then this would not have happened. Something inside of her wanted to voice her doubts about the smell of Anise being the oldest in this place, but they already thought her jealous or threatened by the girl. The last thing she wanted was to 'confirm' their suspicions by pointing a finger at someone they couldn't find.

            "We should return to the Nautilus and review our findings." Nemo looked to them all in turn, noting they nodded in agreement, and he led the way from the building.

            Mina brought up the rear, her head hanging slightly at the sight of Tom's abandoned weapon in Skinner's hand. She wanted to think he was safe, but something in the deepest corner of her mind told her otherwise.

* * *

            He let out an abrupt cry as the boot slammed into his stomach again, and he rolled over, pushing himself to his knees despite the burning pain throughout his body. He breathed heavily, trying to get his rhythm back to normal, and failing. 

            There was a delicate, yet masculine laugh from the owner of the boot, and Tom looked to them with narrowed eyes. He wasn't sure why Jacques and his companions had suddenly decided to pay him a 'visit', but something seemed to be bothering the Frenchman.

            _I'll be damned if I know what it is though_, Tom thought painfully, as he closed his eyes. His already bruised ribs were on fire, and it was uncomfortable to breath properly now. 

            There was a hand latched in his hair suddenly, and Jacques yanked back on it roughly, pulling Tom's head with it. They looked at each other for a long while, and unable to hold it back, Tom asked, "Why are you doing this?"

            Jacques laughed, still holding Tom's hair, and said low and savagely, "Because I feel like it. I do not see you the way Evans does, with all his expectations and hope. It is a waste of time, and you are useless to us."

            One of the others laughed, and leaned back against the bars of the cell, watching. The third man hovered nearby, eager to join in it seemed, whereas the final man paced outside the door of the cell. He looked agitated, as though concerned they may be discovered.

            "Aren't you worried what he'll do when he find out what you're up to?"

            Jacques glared down at Tom, and backhanded him hard across the face, letting go of his hair. Tom closed his eyes tightly after the blow, and felt his nose bleeding again. He ignored it, and took a deep breath.

            "I am not afraid of Charles Evans."

            "Sure you're not," Tom mumbled sarcastically. He looked up to Jacques, only to be met by his fist. Tom lowered his head to the ground in pain, and gritted his teeth against the next kick to the stomach that threw him back and against the wall. 

            "I will make him realise just how much of a waste you are," Jacques grumbled, "and then I will enjoy watching you die... slowly."

            "Do whatever you want," Tom said quietly, forehead against the cold floor now, eyes closed, breathing ragged, "I don't care." He did not look up as he continued, "It's either be killed by you now, or wait to be turned into one of you... I know what I'd choose."

            Jacques grabbed hold of him, making the effort to twist his grip around so he was applying agonising pressure on the knife wound across Tom's shoulder.

            Tom stifled a cry, gritting his teeth against it instead. He would rather suffer in silence than give Jacques the satisfaction of hearing it from him. He tried to hide it as best he could, fully aware of how much of it had to be clear in his eyes when he looked to Jacques, breathing quickly and unevenly now. He just wanted Jacques to let go.

            "I would make your decision for you now if it were up to me," Jacques growled in Tom's ear, tightening his grip to try and make the younger man scream in pain.

            Tom didn't give him the satisfaction, just gasped quietly, and then replied, "If I understand all of this correctly, then I need to be bitten to turn into one of you."

            The look on Jacques' face confirmed Tom's suspicions. He continued, "Well in that case... I hope you choke." He managed a smile, shortly before the man threw him roughly against the wall, and parted with a final punch to the face that cast him back into comforting darkness.  


	22. Lost

**A/N: **Thank you to all my reviewers. I'm glad to see you're enjoying the long-awaited angst that I promised you from Chapter One :S Sorry it took me time to come up with what I owed. Anyway, enjoy! Thank to MJ for your positive comments about Anise, and to all others who are accepting her as well. :)

* * *

            Henry sat with Mina Harker aboard the Nautilus and watched her study the chemical, her glasses reflecting the light partially so he couldn't see her blue eyes properly. They had been silent for some time now, and it was starting to gnaw at him.

            "I thought as much," Mina mumbled from over her results, her brow knitting delicately. "I should have known from the smell."

            Henry cocked his head, smiling inwardly at the animalistic look it gave him, and inquired, "What is it? You know the substance?"

            Mina nodded slowly, to herself mostly, and continued by replying, "I have come across it before. I don't know why I didn't recognise it when I smelt it in that room. It has a very distinctive sweet odour to it."

            "Yes, I noticed that as well," Henry agreed. He felt as though he was missing something here, and then his mind seemed to click. He looked to Mina suddenly, and narrowed his eyes. "Are you suggesting what I think you are?"

            "That all depends, Doctor," Mina said to him lightly, "what is it that you think I am suggesting?"

            Henry swallowed dryly, a lingering suspicion in him now, and offered, "Chloroform."

            "Well in that case," Mina began, "you are correct in thinking so. It is chloroform."

            "Used for anaesthetics in surgery."

            "And as a drug to induce unconsciousness in victims it seems," Mina agreed. "They must have known that Tom would not go quietly."

            "And Miss Delacroix," Henry supplemented as an afterthought, giving Mina a curious gaze. He could tell the vampire did not like the young woman. It was no secret... far from it in fact. The tension had been clear from the moment they had met in Paris.

            "Yes," Mina mumbled in affirmation, looking down at her results again and removing her glasses. "Why didn't I see this before?"

            Henry saw the anger in her gaze now that her eyes were visible, and he touched her arm lightly from his seat, and said, "Do not blame yourself. Clearly this is taking its toll on you."

            "Clearly," she muttered, sitting herself down. "We should inform the others of this development. I just hope the attacker knew how much of the substance to use."

            "I've heard of accidents too." Henry knew her train of thought. It was his as well. "Too much would have put them into comas... an overdose would kill them."

            Mina nodded, lost in her thoughts.

            Henry joined her.

* * *

            There was something that didn't sit right in the very pit of her stomach as she sat in her room at her desk, writing delicately in an open book. She looked out of the window into the lingering darkness that was slowly giving in to the light of the dawn, and she frowned. Something was wrong. She could sense it.

            Standing, leaving her pen and book on the desk, she exited her room, and moved down the hallway, letting her feet guide her, her brain working in overdrive to identify the smells she was tracking.

            Jacques. Not alone though... Alessandro... Paulo... and one more, Friedrich. They had come this way not long ago. She realised where her feet were taking her, and her eyes widened in horror as Jacques' threat floated back into her mind.

            _'Who said it were you I would strike back at?'_

            Anise started running then, and her heart raced; even as she slammed open the door to the room with the cell. She approached the bars, seeing the still form lying near the wall at the very rear of the cage, and she cursed in French, fumbling in her pocket for the key.

            Locating it, she dug it out, and unlocked the door, leaving it open as she walked immediately to Tom's unconscious form and knelt next to him. She gently used her fingers to stroke back the loose locks of hair that covered his eyes, and saw they were closed, as she had expected. A deep sigh escaped her as she inwardly cursed Jacques and his 'friends' for their pathetic behaviour.

            She saw the blood on the floor then, and looked carefully at Tom, seeing his nose had bled again. She was consumed with guilt and concern. Anise moved to pick up the discarded blanket, shortly before she heard the footsteps behind her.

            Expecting Jacques or one of the others, she whirled in a crouch, her gaze finding Charles Evans instead. She was less than pleased with this encounter, and tried to pretend as though he were not there, picking up the rag of cloth, noticing Tom had used it before to stop blood flow.

            "I assume you know who it was," Evans said very calmly.

            Without looking back, she moved to roll Tom over, but paused, replying, "Yes I do. Why? Do you care?"

            "Of course I care," came his abrupt response. There was anger in his tone. She knew better than to play with him when he was like this. "I'm not about to watch someone ruin what I have planned for, Anise, and despite your... feelings, you know this as well. Now who was it?"

            Anise debated whether to tell Evans this or not, and then as she looked down at Tom again, she sighed, determined, and said, "It was Beauvais. He was not alone."

            "You're certain?"

            "Teeth and claws are not all I gained from the change, Evans," Anise informed him, looking him in the eye now. "I can smell him... them."

            "Who else?" His voice was so calm now as he looked down upon the unconscious body. Anise wanted to block Tom from his view, as if that would protect him.

            "Alessandro," she began, knowing in her heart she was doing the right thing by revealing what she knew to be true. "Paulo, and Friedrich too."

            "Ah, of course," Evans mumbled, sighing. "Where Beauvais goes, they follow. How very feral of them."

            Anise closed her eyes at the feeble insult, listening to Evans' light chuckle as she rolled Tom onto his back. She let out a loud sigh, lowering her head at the sight of the faint bruising on the left side of his face. A small amount of blood had trickled from the corner of his mouth too.

            "Damn you, Jacques," she grumbled angrily, even as Tom stirred. He did not awaken however, simply moved slightly, his head shifting, and one of his hands clenching and relaxing.

            "Well," Evans began, sounding bored now, "I suppose I should see to the problem. I can't very well have Beauvais and his 'pack' ruining my plans now, can I?"

            With that he was gone, and Anise growled despite her best attempts to control it and suppress it. It happened to her sometimes, like before in this very cell when Tom had insulted her. She hadn't been able to hold back the animal within, and had attacked him. At least she hadn't scratched him... or bitten him. She would never have been able to forgive herself for that.

            As she stared out the door after Evans, a low groan dragged her back to reality, and she turned her head at once to see Tom regaining consciousness, clearly in pain. He winced against the light, and took a couple of deep audible breaths before opening his eyes halfway.

            Seeing who was crouched over him took only a matter of moments, and he sat up at once to get away from her, too quickly it seemed. He gasped, closed his eyes, and held a hand to his side, panting.

            Anise could not stop the concern from flowing into her voice as she asked, "Are you all right?"

            "Just perfect thanks to your friends," Tom retorted, looking to her and taking the cloth out of her hands briskly. "Why do you care?"

            His question hurt her inside, and she took a moment, before saying, "You are surprised I do?"

            Tom wiped the blood from his face with the cloth, at least the blood he knew about anyway, and replied, "You could say that. You did betray me after all."

            "I did not betray you."

            "Then what would you call it?" Tom's eyes bore into her, and the pain in them made her ache all over with guilt and compassion. She _had_ betrayed him, she knew, but didn't want to admit it, even to herself. She was afraid to.

            "I..." She sighed heavily, taking the cloth from him gently, noticing he let her. She hesitated before using her hand to touch his face, wiping away the blood from the corner of his mouth. "We've been through this."

            He closed his eyes against her touch, and then seemed to realise what he was letting her do, how close he was letting her, and he pulled away. The movement pained him visibly, and she swelled with guilt again.

            "Damn him," she mumbled angrily, and edged closer, trying to look in his eyes. He closed them to stop her from doing so, and breathed heavily, holding a hand to his ribs again. She remembered the bruising he had sustained before, and frowned deeply. "I am sorry. This is my fault."

            He didn't speak, just looked to her briefly. She thought she saw doubt in his soulful green eyes. She became lost in them in that moment, and took in his handsome features as he winced. "How is this your fault?"

            "Because I lost my temper with that bastard, and he thought he would strike back at me through you," Anise informed him, wishing he would let her see to his injuries. "He is an animal."

            Tom laughed quietly, obviously regretting it at once, and he groaned lightly, his head thudding back against the solid wall behind him. He let out a slow breath.

            She understood the humour he found in her comment, and smiled, still concerned, and touched a hand to his face. He didn't pull away this time.

            "I am sorry, Tom... you _have_ to know that." She paused, getting her emotions under control before she persisted, "I was afraid."

            His eyes opened and met hers, and they locked there firmly for what felt like an eternity. It was, in reality, only a few seconds, before he sighed, and said, "I know."

            She reeled internally. Did he forgive her? No... that was impossible. How could he have forgiven her?

            "But I still don't understand why you didn't just tell me," Tom added after a moment, "I could have tried to help you... _we_ could have helped you. We could have protected you. I said I wouldn't let anything happen to you... I meant that."

            She hung her head in shame, and felt a tear break through her defences, tumbling freely down her cheek. "I wish..." she paused to gather herself, let her voice become steady, stop shaking. "I wish I could go back, and make this all right."

            His fingers stroked through her hair affectionately, and she felt another tear escape. Then another. She couldn't stop it. She felt dead inside, like she had destroyed the only good thing she had ever truly had.

* * *

            Skinner paced outside on the promenade of the Nautilus, taking in the early morning air, sucking in deep breaths, and trying to contemplate everything that was going on. It made his head ache. He hadn't even had his usual glass of scotch this morning... maybe he should.

            _No_, he thought at once, _I need to keep my head clear, just like Mina said. One of those-_

            And that was when he saw it. He had to lean over the railing to get a clearer view of it, and eventually settled for removing his pince-nez from his face and peering out unobstructed to see the darting figure. They seemed to be fleeing the area, a certain shuffling movement to them that was oddly sinister.

            "Well that's a bit suspicious," Skinner mumbled to himself, replaced his glasses, and darted into the submarine. His feet carried him the distance quickly, years of stealth as a thief making his journey silent, and he took the easiest route he knew to the dining room. He had decided to skip on breakfast that morning... it didn't seem right with the empty spaces.

            He burst through the doors, and he noticed Jekyll almost spilt his tea all down himself with shock. His wide eyes turned on Skinner at once, and he blurted, "What's the matter?"

            Skinner took a deep breath to settle his racing heart, and replied, "I think I just spotted one of those ly... lyc... werewolf things racing away from here. Looked in a hurry to me."

            Mina stood at once, her breakfast forgotten, and she strode around to Skinner with purpose and determination, asking, "Which way did they go? Can you show me?"

            There was a distinct intent in her eyes that Skinner just could not ignore. He nodded his head to the door, took a step towards it and noticed Mina shadowed directly behind him. Normally, something like this would have excited him, but not this day. Perhaps it was due to the fact that a friend's life could be at stake.

            That was, if Tom Sawyer was still alive.


	23. Revelations

**A/N: **Thanks again to ikhan11 for his assistance in this chapter. Thanks to everyone who reviewed chapter 22, meant a lot to me as always. It may shock you to know just how many chapters you've got to follow this one : / Shocked me as well when I worked it out... you really wanna know? You do? Seriously? Okay, okay, I'll tell you, don't look at me with those puppy-dog eyes! You've got *looks from side to side* ten, including this one. *ducks for cover as objects may be thrown at her*

* * *

            He ached all over, more than he could remember in a long time, and he had to take deep slow breaths to settle it. Tom had been alone for about an hour now. Anise had left the room quietly after breaking down in front of him. He couldn't help but feel for her, even though he had told himself not to, reminded himself that she had betrayed his trust.

            "C'mon, dammit," he muttered angrily under his breath as he tried again to loosen the manacle around his left wrist, cursing loudly when it resisted just as firmly and successfully as it had countless times before. Now his hands ached as well, and he was in a worse mood to boot.

            He thudded his head back against the wall behind him twice before realising that was a bad idea, and wished he had something to throw, or even a gun to fire at something, anything to relieve the tension and anger he felt inside. 

            Tom swelled with so many emotions he didn't know which to give in to first. Anger, hatred, guilt, regret... even fear. He had allowed himself to be tricked so easily. What shocked him the most was perhaps the fact that Charles Evans seemed to know so much about him.

            He drew his knees up to his chest, and rested his forehead on them, letting out a long sigh, the burning in his sides making him close his eyes tightly for a moment before it subsided.

            There was only one thing eating away at him at that moment as he sat in complete resignation, as his mind cleared of everything that had happened and the truth hit him in its fullest form.

            Where was the League?

* * *

            She revelled in the chase, a good chance to let herself go. Now if only she could quell the hunger inside, she would be able to enjoy it to the full. Her prey was losing their energy now, she knew, and she was gaining on them... him... she could smell him.

            She let it fill her, let her otherworldly senses take over, and she quickened her travel. Mina had started off on foot, but then taken to higher ground when the coast was clear, when the risk of being seen by a bystander was less. 

            Her feet travelled swiftly and with ease over the rooftops, skirting the slopes deftly, and leaping the gaps between buildings with grace. Experience had brought her a certain... agility, she felt. It had also brought her caution. She knew not to take risks.

            Down below her, closing in around the startled creature, were Skinner and Jekyll. Nemo and some of his crew were shutting off the trap from another angle. They would be upon him soon. 

            That was when she saw her oppurtunity. The coward emerged from a shadowed hiding place below, and made to dart down an adjacent alleyway. This was her chance, her window. She had to take it.

            Gracefully and swiftly, she leapt from her high vantage point, sailing down through the air with the agility of a bird in descent, and landed on his back, rolling away and to her feet immediately after her ambush.

            She heard his infuriated snarl, and saw his eyes flash a bestial shade of yellow. Fangs elongated, and claws lengthened from his nails, but he seemed incapable of undergoing any further transformation.

            Mina returned the favour by revealing her own demonic attributes, and growled back at him, her eyes red now, feeling the tips of her own fangs against her tongue. Her hair whipped about her face slightly; free from the restriction of the pins she normally kept it in. She had two daggers concealed in her long leather coat, and she wasn't afraid to use them. She knew where to strike.

            The man had an oriental look to him, narrowed eyes glaring, dark skin flushed with exhaustion. His clothing was tatty and encrusted with dirt and long-dried blood. His black hair was matted and in desperate need of washing, or just simply shaving. He had stubble forming around his jaw and upper lip, and as he snarled he bared yellowing teeth.

            Mina glowered, and lashed out at him, spinning like a dervish, her daggers outstretched. She struck out at him, the blades facing out from her, hilts gripped firmly in her feminine hands, sunlight gleaming off the weapons. 

            The werewolf let out a snarl of fury, and spun like the cornered animal that he was, claws slashing at her, mouth open wide in a feral threat. He was trying to keep her away from him. Was he afraid?

            Vampire and werewolf clashed in the centre of the alley, blood spilled at once from the chest of the latter. The creature let out a pained yelp, and slashed back at Mina. She arched her back, head craning to avoid the claws. 

            She was back upright at once, only subconsciously registering the arrival of Skinner and Jekyll, who stopped at once to witness the combat with wide eyes and gaping mouths. 

            Mina lashed out at the beast before her, never hesitating, and soon the man was sprawled on the floor before her, a bleeding wreck, panting and gasping for breath, in an almost overwhelming amount of pain, she was certain. She simply stood looming over him victoriously, not a scratch on her. She had been very careful to dodge his attacks. Mina wasn't certain what would happen to her were she wounded by one of these creatures, and she was in no hurry to experiment.

            She signalled to Nemo and his men to approach. They had just arrived.

            The waning yellow eyes glared up at her, and a growl emerged from his throat.

            Mina slammed her boot into his face, watching him slump limply to the floor entirely, motionless now except for the heaving of his chest as he breathed. Her blue eyes travelled up to meet the shocked face of Jekyll, and she sighed, throwing him a certain look that made him reconsider his chiding her for her brutality. He calmed.

            Skinner came over to her cautiously, and actually asked with concern, "All right?"

            "Perfectly fine," Mina replied earnestly, tossing him half a smile for emphasis. "He was in no condition to fight anyway. He was weak... perhaps fatigued from hunger. The blood on his clothes makes me suspect he was in battle not too long ago. He may be one of the werewolves who was fighting on the dock."

            Jekyll nodded as he too approached, frequently glancing down at the werewolf that Nemo and his men were taking away, saying, "That is a possibility. He doesn't look too well off, does he? What made you spare him?"

            Mina eyed the doctor seriously, and replied bluntly, "We need information. Anything he has could help us to save Tom and Anise... if there is still a chance."

            There was a long uncomfortable silence that hung in between them. Skinner cleared his throat, Jekyll observed the second hand of his pocket watch for a while, and Mina watched the removal of the creature she had defeated.

            She would get something out of the monstrosity... no matter what the price.

* * *

            "And when was the last time he was seen in the city?"

            Jacques turned on his companions, his 'pack' as Evans so affectionately called them, and sighed. "I have not seen him myself since he decided against our plans. Has no one any news of him?"

            "None," Alessandro reported gruffly. "He has not been seen since his retreat. He was wounded after we tried to... change his mind, but all we know is he is alive, and most probably weak."

            "So it could be possible..." Jacques began, "that he has been captured."

            The others knew this was not a question, and looked to one another hesitantly. Jacques knew they were intimidated by him... this was how he wanted it. Fear, to him, was a healthy thing in the correct doses. He had been around long enough to know the exact amount of dread to instil in people, whether they be his followers, his prey, or simply a new acquaintance. 

            There were many different degrees of that fear in his company now. One or two were terrified of him. Several knew not what to make of him, and stayed somewhere comfortably in between fright and awe. There were an exceptional number, such as Alessandro and Paulo, who looked on him as a companion, and did not fear him nearly as much as the others. It was still there though... he could smell it, deep down inside them, perhaps where they did not even look.

            "It is possible," Paulo agreed finally when no one else dared speak. "Would you like for a search party to scour the city?"

            "No," Jacques told them at once. "It is too dangerous right now. Together, the League are strong... perhaps too strong."

            His followers looked to him in confusion. The League... had he not told them of their enemy, their potential threat, the danger that they posed? Had Evans not done this? Did they know nothing?

            Resisting the urge to submit to his anger inside, swelling up like a torrent of water, he took a deep breath, and suggested, "Very well. Send six. Return back every two hours and switch shifts, until Saito Kazuo is found. I want him returned at once. We cannot let him fall into enemy hands. He knows valuable information."

            Alessandro nodded, taking the role of organiser, and even as Jacques left the room, he heard the man barking orders at everyone.

* * *

            Henry was far from comfortable with this new situation, and he hovered near the rear of the ice room aboard the Nautilus, trying to be as invisible as he could. He envied Skinner all of a sudden. The coat and trilby stood near a pillar, leaning against it casually, the white face paint showing boredom on the covered features. The glasses reflected the light, and were turned in the direction of the struggling figure in the centre of the room.

            Captain Nemo and some of his men stood at regular intervals around the cold room, spears and other instruments in their chilled hands. Henry was reminded of his own incarceration in this room... although in truth that had been Edward Hyde, not himself. It was a little different.

            The last member of the League paced back and forth in front of the panting man, the werewolf. He glared at her boots as she moved. Mina had opted for trousers in this interrogation, giving her more freedom to move. Her skirts would only hinder her movement. Her hair was pulled back from her face in a tight, neat ponytail at the rear of her head. Her blue eyes stared icily, a different kind of cold to that in the room.

            Henry knew she wanted answers, and he was only present -despite his better judgement- because he was eager to hear them, as were the others. It was vital they gathered information as soon as possible.

            The werewolf himself, called Kazuo, or so he claimed, was kneeling in the middle of the floor, chains hindering his movements. They were locked about his wrists and ankles, and there was a collar, or something similar, closed about his neck. The restraints were fixed firmly to the walls. The man would have a difficult time moving further than a few feet.

            "You still have not answered my question," Mina hissed at him, waving a very dangerous looking knife into the light, watching it glint ominously. The werewolf saw this too, and he growled.

            He received a backhand for his temper, and soon fell silent. Mina glowered down at him, and restated her question, "What do you know of two agents... one American, and one French? A man and a woman. Is Evans responsible for their disappearance?"

            Kazuo raised his brown eyes to Mina's face, and he seemed to be fighting the inner urge to attack her. His limbs twitched as if in spasm, and he took a deep breath. He appeared to be in some discomfort. 

            Henry reminded himself that it was too risky to approach the man and try to help him. He would probably resist quite vigorously. Henry was smarter than that.

            Mina stopped pacing in front of him, her legs set apart at a distance, ready to move quickly if the man struck out at her. So far he had resisted doing so against her, perhaps fully aware that she was stronger and more agile. She admired the weapon in her hand. The blade was long and thin, and no doubt sharp. 

            "I am sure you are aware of your own weaknesses," Mina began in a low, threatening voice, pointing the blade towards the captive now. She narrowed her light eyes. "A normal blade would not harm you permanently..." She paused here, Henry guessed for dramatic affect, before persisting, "But silver might do more damage. I'm certain you would agree."

            Kazuo flinched all of a sudden, trying to pull away from the blade as it moved close to his throat. There was a fear in his eyes now. "If you kill me," he stated in an accented voice, "you will never discover what you wish to know."

            Henry had guessed from the look of the man that he had an oriental origin, but his voice made it a certainty. He was Japanese, or Chinese. Japanese, Henry guessed, from the name. He had met a few in his time. 

            "Who said I would kill you straight away?" Mina raised her eyebrows, tilting her head ever so slightly to one side, smiling tauntingly.

            Kazuo looked to the others in the room, seeing no help there. He seemed to have hit his limit of resistance, as he finally said, "What do you want to know?"

            There was a hidden sense of satisfaction in Mina's tone as she asked, "Sawyer and Delacroix... where are they?"

            "I left Evans and his men when I discovered they were planning to continue what I thought they had finished long ago," Kazuo revealed, his voice breaking somewhat, as if afraid the man in question would hear him and punish him for his weakness.

            Henry listened in horror as the details were given away.


	24. A Time For Action

**A/N: **The calm before the storm perhaps? Thanks to everyone who reviewed. Appreciated it as always. Glad to see no one is going to try and kill me for telling you how many chapters you have left : S I was worried. Now, Sethoz, I hope this keeps you happy for a while ; )

* * *

            The long table in the dining area of the Nautilus was empty from food, instead plans of New York spread out over its surface. It was a time for action, and a time for planning. The seats were empty, even pulled aside so the remaining members of the League could stand near to the table, rest their hands on its wood in pensive consideration of the maps and street diagrams.

            "Evans' abode is here," Nemo voiced, pointing a finger at one drawing, showing an extensive mansion and grounds. "It must be well guarded, but with the correct weapons and tactics, entrance is not impossible."

            Skinner shook his head. "I can get in there, it's just a matter of the buggers smelling me."

            "They do have heightened senses," Mina agreed, looking from one to the other. "I would be able to cause a distraction, perhaps kill a few whilst some men skirt the walls. Vampires and werewolves have a... less than friendly history."

            "So, you expect they will concentrate on you instead of us?" Jekyll inquired, shifting uncertainly on his side of the table next to Nemo.

            Mina nodded. "Do you think it possible to contain Hyde until we enter the mansion? If they see him approach the gates..."

            "Maybe it would be best if I did not release him at all."

            "What are you talking about?" Skinner demanded as politely as possible. "We're gonna need his strength. These things are exactly puppies, you know."

            "It has been most difficult of late to keep him controlled," Jekyll divulged shakily. "I find his thoughts most troubling. He seems to be reverting to his old ways, his bad habits. I have caught him more than once thinking of... harming certain individuals."

            "Us?" Mina arched an eyebrow curiously.

            Jekyll simply nodded quickly, and lowered his gaze as if he were to blame.

            Mina sighed. There was nothing else for it though. "We have no other choice but to risk it. We will need his strength on this endeavour if we are to have any chance of saving Tom."

            Her mind reeled angrily at Kazuo's revelations once again. They had been betrayed. Anise Delacroix had set them up; set Tom up, for a fall. It was difficult to believe this somehow though... Mina had just thought the young woman an uncertainty. She hadn't imagined seriously for a moment that she would actually mean harm. She had simply considered her weak and useless.

            But the one thing that frightened her most was what they planned for their American companion. They intended to add Tom to their ranks, as they had many times before apparently. Different countries, different additions. So many different nationalities, and each one a victim. It disgusted her inside, and she suddenly felt quite nauseous. Pushing the sensation down, she turned her concentration back on the table.

            "Very well," Jekyll sighed at once, and rubbed his forehead as if it ached, "but I believe it best if he is at hand as soon as possible, in case the werewolves attack in force. I mean no offence, but you may not be able to fend them all off."

            "None taken," Mina agreed. The doctor had a good point. She knew she was strong, but if they ambushed her she would be in trouble. She would not be able to defend herself as well as she would against a smaller number. "You are right. We will need Hyde at the beginning of the plan as much as we will need him inside the mansion. We will have a vast distance to cover internally. I may be able to smell Sawyer inside, but there is no guarantee."

            "We'll have to split up and look for him," Skinner noted, nodding. "Going solo might not be such a good idea though."

            "We will stay in teams of two, perhaps three," Nemo suggested. "Some of my men will go in larger groups for safety. Hyde and I can search the lower levels, and Harker and Skinner, you can try the upper floors."

            Mina nodded. It was a sound idea. It made sense not to search alone. Skinner and Nemo could have difficulty defending themselves. She had already informed them where and how to strike to kill one of the creatures, but it was best they travel with a partner in case they were overwhelmed. 

            "We will need to prepare at once," Mina voiced loudly, "if they are to carry out their plan tonight. Full moon has arrived, and this is when they are at their most dangerous... their most savage. Our informant has already assured us that they planned to carry out their... 'ritual' this evening. We need to work quickly."

            Nods of affirmation came from each member, and they soon left the room to prepare, focused and determined.

* * *

            Skinner stood in front of the sink, a damp washcloth in his invisible hands, smearing the cream from his face, watching as it streaked away down the plughole when he dampened the cloth for continuation. With a sigh, he pressed on, ensuring he removed it all from every inch of his face.

            He would never admit it to anyone, but this mission had him a little frightened. He hadn't seen one of these... things, in full yet, just the semi-bestial form the oriental man had taken on. The eyes and the teeth and claws... that was all. He wondered what they looked like when fully transformed.

            Trying not to think about it, he went back to his tedious, but necessary, task.

* * *

            Henry Jekyll ignored the eager gibbering of Edward Hyde inside of his skull as he pocketed three vials of his formula, not entirely sure how long this would take. He knew they wanted... no, _needed_ Hyde, would need him for the majority of the time it took. He knew, with a heavy heart, that they thought him more useful.

            He even knew this himself, but was reluctant to admit it, even tried to hide it from Edward. This was the hardest task. The monster knew his every desire, his every thought.

            With this eating away at him, he unnecessarily neatened his collar in the mirror before departing the room to meet the others.

* * *

            Captain Nemo stood before the shrine of Kali for just a few moments longer; head bowed in respect and admiration as he silently prayed they would survive this night. It was a difficult task, a complicated plan. 

            But, despite all of this, Nemo knew it to be for the greater good. These beasts had to be destroyed, no matter what the cost. He would see it through to the end; ensure his men were not afraid by putting on a brave face. His men usually calmed and accepted their possible fates in the presence of their stalwart captain. They thought him a strong and almost indestructible man. This was no secret.

            Nemo knew himself that it was just a façade... it was just an act he put on to calm and reassure others. Inside, he was frightened, more than he could remember being in a long time. Sheathing his ornate sword, he left the room, closing the large white doors behind him.

* * *

            Staring in the mirror, she reached up with a heavy-hearted sigh, and released her hair from its ties, feeling it fall freely around her face, slightly curled now. Her blue eyes stared at her own reflection, her pale flawless skin, her lips set grimly into a line, her expression otherwise blank. She was ready. She was slightly hesitant, but she was ready.

            Mina Harker had no idea how many of these beasts Evans kept in his company, but she had no doubt it was more than they had seen so far. He probably kept enough to ensure he felt safe... enough to protect his home and self.

            Of course, she also knew he had many different nationalities stored away inside those walls, so the numbers had to be great. 

            Swallowing her doubts, she reached over to her dresser, taking the two long, thin silver daggers from the surface, and slipping them away, concealed in her clothing. She only wanted the weapons revealed at the last moment, before the beasts realised it was too late.

            With a grim expression of anticipation, she swept mysteriously out of her cabin, leaving the door open behind her, expecting to return later to close it before bed.

* * *

            Anise could feel the electricity of expectation in the air as she made her way through the grand hall where everyone was gathered. They were of all nationalities. Russian, Egyptian, Portuguese, African, Indian, Spanish, English, German, French, Chinese... there were so many she had lost track. 

            The only two other females sat in the corner of the room, and stood eagerly to intercept her before she left the hall. They were of definite foreign origin. One was named Jamila Hosny... she was Egyptian in origin, and had an unmistakable lilt to her voice that sounded almost soothing to the ear. Her hair was dark and curled around her face like a frame of shadow, and her light green eyes stared at Anise in anticipation. Her tanned skin flushed expectantly.

            The other was an African woman, the oldest of the females. Samura Asante was by all meanings of the word, beautiful. She had long black hair that trailed all the way down her back in intricate braids. She had brown, almost black eyes that penetrated everything, saw right into the soul, and her dark skin was flawless in its perfection. She was the silent envy of both Jamila and Anise, and the object of many a male eye.

            "So?" Jamila began impatiently, "What have you heard?"

            Anise looked between the two, in the mood for neither, just wanting to be alone with her own thoughts. She sighed quietly, rubbed her brow, and replied, "I have heard nothing. Evans does not trust me."

            "Well he must trust you to a certain degree," Samura offered lightly, almost carefree.

            Anise turned her eyes solely upon the African woman now, and narrowed them in confusion. "What is it that you mean?"

            Samura laughed bitterly. "Well, Evans does not choose just anyone, Anise, you know this."

            "I don't understand."

            Samura was jealous of something. It was written all over her face. She half-sneered as she divulged, "Your affection for the American must be something impressive, Anise, or Evans would not have picked you for the siring."

            Her heart sank to the very pit of her stomach, and she nearly retched. "Siring?"

            "Yes, my dear girl," Samura confirmed, sounding very much like the Englishman himself in her words. "He has chosen you for the honour."

            "I would not call it an honour," Anise mumbled, feeling very sick all of a sudden. Evans could not be serious... this had to be some kind of cruel joke he was playing on her. 

            "And what would you call it?" Jamila inquired with a hint of aplomb. "It is not exactly a punishment."

            Anise looked suddenly to the two of them, and without saying another word, broke her way through the middle of them, and left the room in a hurry, intending to take this matter up with Evans himself.


	25. Time Is Running Out

**A/N:** Let the chaos begin... THANKS to EVERYONE who reviewed. That's right, I mean YOU! (Calm down, Clez, you're scaring everyone!) Get this, it's one o'clock in the morning (!) here, and I'm hyped... don't know why. Anywho, I'm putting it down to my reviewers, my lovely, sweet kind reviewers who keep comin' back. Oh excellent, the song the title comes from has JUST come on my Media Player *cackles maniacally*...

* * *

            Charles heard the door slam open, and chuckled lightly under his breath at the expression on Anise Delacroix's beautiful young face. She was livid. He smiled at her in what he hoped was a charming manner, and sat himself in his favourite armchair by the fire, a lit cigarette in his hand.

            Jacques Beauvais stood next to his chair, dressed in a smarter fashion than was normal for the man. He had just ordered his patrols back. Who cared about Kazuo anyway? He could tell whomever he wanted whatever he liked... it would make little difference.

            That was one thing Charles had always felt... he didn't care who knew what... as long as they were powerless to prevent the actions they disagreed with. This was where the League currently sat, at a loss for what to do to save their little American friend. They would never get inside the grounds, not if Charles could help it.

            Jacques' men were too strong and too many. They had built up quite a force over the last couple of years, all starting with Anise. She was first sired, and it had spread like wildfire from there, the cogs in Charles' head turning. Oh, the secrets he knew. The things he could conceive with all of his knowledge. Only one more piece to add, and he had, what he liked to call, a full collection.

            Chuckling quietly to himself, he heard Anise say, "How dare you... how can you expect me to do this?"

            Jacques grumbled quietly, and rubbed his eyes casually, losing interest rather quickly in the debate that was just starting.

            "Oh, my dear girl, it is because of your affection that you were picked for the task," Charles divulged lightly, knocking the ash from his cigarette into an ashtray on the arm of his seat. "Don't you understand that? If you hadn't fallen for the damn boy, Jacques would have been perfectly happy to do it instead."

            "Then he can do it if he so wishes," Anise hissed, hovering near the still-swinging double doors.

            "Oh, no," Jacques sighed distastefully, grimacing, "I have the feeling he would taste the same as other Americans I have sampled. Very... well, it's not very pleasant, thank you, and I wish to enjoy this evening."

            Anise growled. It was louder than he had heard from the girl in a long time, and he stood, glowering at her, the light from the fire reflecting off his features. He stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray forcefully, and crossed the room to her.

            "What did I tell you about resistance, Anise?" Charles asked her in a low, threatening tone, "What did I say would happen to you?"

            She stared up at him, and replied, "You said I would be punished."

            "And you will be, if you defy me one more time." He locked her gaze with his, and added, "You will do as you are told, and you will not say another word against it. Understood?"

            She said nothing.

            Charles cleared his throat expectantly, raising his eyebrows at her, and repeated, "Understood?"

            Jacques was watching with interest now, the inkling of a smirk on his face.

            "I understand," Anise mumbled. She lowered her gaze, submitting to him.

            Charles had always found this odd. Anise, and in fact any of the others, could very easily tear him limb from limb if they so desired, but there was something submissive and pathetic about them that made them cooperative. Perhaps they were afraid of him. Who knew? He cared not as long as they obeyed him.

            Sighing, he turned back and made his way to the fireplace again, speaking this time to Jacques, "It is time. Get the boy."

            With a somewhat evil grin, Jacques bowed his head slightly in agreement, and was gone.

* * *

            He was in the process of trying to loosen the chains from the walls when he heard the door on the other side of the room open loudly. It startled him slightly, but he hid the surprise, and he turned slowly to see Beauvais standing in the light of the doorway staring at him with the hint of a smile. 

            Tom stared at him, and felt his heart beat a little faster when he saw what Jacques held in his large hands: rope. 

            _Well at least I'll get the chains off_, he thought, even as Jacques approached, key at the ready. He unlocked the cell, leaving it open. That was when Tom saw two of the three men from before standing just outside the door. He didn't have a hope of getting out that way. He could always jump out the window... if there had been a window in the room, that is.

            Cursing inside his head, he let Jacques come right up in front of him. He was curious as to how much a punch would hurt him. Instead of giving in to his curiousity, he asked, "What do you want?"

            Jacques did not answer, simply struck him hard around the face, sending him down to the floor, dazed. He closed his eyes tightly against the dizziness that came with the blow, and took a deep breath. Tom felt the other man unlocking the manacles.

            Jacques picked Tom roughly off the floor, and slammed him against the wall, yanking his arms behind his back and binding his wrists tightly and quickly. Pulling him away from the wall, he tied a gag across his mouth, and then led him from the cage.

            Tom didn't see any point in struggling... not yet anyway. Maybe the other two would disappear soon, go their own ways, and then Tom could try whatever he thought would work... if anything. It was only when he realised they weren't going to Evans' room that Tom understood what was going on.

            He remembered what Anise had told him, what she had said was to happen to him. He started struggling at once, trying to pull against Jacques, who quickly took a tight grip of his wounded shoulder and squeezed ruthlessly.

            Tom bit down hard on the gag and closed his eyes, noticing that Jacques did not stop squeezing his arm straight away. He was enjoying seeing him in pain. After a while, he loosened his grip, and grabbed him by his hair, turning his head to face him.

            "Do it again, and I'll make another wound... this one more painful and much more permanent," Jacques growled at him. Tom saw the faintest flash of feral yellow in his eyes, and decided that heeding his warning was probably a good idea.

            Where the hell was the League? They had to have noticed he was gone by now. Surely they must have. Why were they taking so long? They hadn't abandoned him to his fate had they? They were smart enough to figure out where he was... weren't they?

            His shoulder throbbing and stinging now, his right arm slightly numb with the pain, Tom allowed himself to be half-dragged to a room. The doors were closed, but Tom could pick out the definite sounds of a group of people from inside. He knew what was going on, but the pain in his shoulder had reached his skull now, and he felt dizzy again.

            Tom wavered slightly as Jacques signalled to the other two men to open the doors, and when they did so, he forced himself to look inside. His green eyes picked out at least two to three dozen people, crowded around the room, looking eager and anxious for something.

            All of their heads turned at once to take in the sight at the doorway. He knew then what they had been waiting for. He wished he wasn't awake to see this, and seriously considered giving in to the lingering blackness that wanted to consume him right then and there.

            Something held him back from that though, and Jacques pushed him forward. The man still had a tight grip on him, at the back of his shirt now, and when they reached the centre of the room, he forced Tom down roughly to his knees.

            Tom wished everyone would stop staring at him. It was more than unnerving, considering more than one were growling hungrily, and several sets of eyes were yellow. His breathing quickened a little, and as he looked around, many of them were smiling. At him. 

            They had started to form a large circle around him and Jacques now. The two men that had accompanied them here were lost in the crowd. Opposite Tom, they parted slightly for two figures to enter. 

            Evans, with a large blade, and Anise... her eyes were downcast. She wouldn't look at him, and he didn't blame her. He blamed her for just about everything else, but he wouldn't have been able to look at her either if their roles were reversed. He'd liked to think he wouldn't have gone through with any of this if the roles were reversed... but he tried not to think about it at all. Now wasn't the best time. He needed to think of a way out of here.

            He needed one fast.

* * *

            She swept up to the gates and quickly vaulted herself over them, coming across her first two opponents at once, and they were armed. They raised their guns at her, but she was too fast for them. She lashed out with lightning speed, striking one in the chest, and one in the face.

            With a sickening thud, the first of the two fell dead to the ground without even uttering a cry. She had pierced his heart. With the dagger she had used against this werewolf, she lashed out again at the other, using her otherworldly strength to decapitate the second. He died instantly.

            Satisfied with her progress, she signalled through the gate to Skinner, whom she could smell. He in turn signalled to one of Nemo's men, who would pass it down the line to Hyde at the far edge of the grounds. He was planning to make a nice, loud, messy distraction for the others.

            He did just that moments after, when the swift message it was time reached him, and the bricks from the furthest side of the wall exploded inward in a shower that pummelled a few scouts to the ground in shock. The massive form of Hyde bundled through the hole after that, some of the wall still crumbling around him, and he swung out his massive, muscled arms at them, knocking them flying in every direction as they came for him.

            That was when the men started vaulting over the walls, some with more ease than others. Skinner clambered over the gate that Mina had realised she could not unlock, and landed with a crash in the bushes on the other side.

            "Ow," he mumbled irritably, but hushed his complaining at Mina's icy stare. She could see figures approaching, and she soon realised the odd smell out here. These weren't werewolves... no, these were men. Humans, all of them. 

            No matter. They were still on the wrong side, and were expendable in her eyes. They had to be dealt with. Giving in to her innermost urges, realising her hunger could be satisfied, she leapt at the first man, concealing her daggers back in her long leather coat, sinking her fangs into his exposed throat, hearing him choke and die.

            She drank quickly, knowing time was of the essence. She heard Skinner rush past her, on his way to the mansion. She would need to cover him, and soon went on her way to the next victim.

* * *

            Edward revelled in the carnage, laughing maniacally in his booming voice as one after the other the men soared through the air, landing with sickening snaps on the ground and in the bushes nearby. Very few of them rose again.

            They tried to strike out at him with fists and blades, some even drew guns, but Nemo was quickly there to dispatch of such pests.

            Edward was much too distracted in the fun of killing the minions of Evans to worry about bothering Nemo. The Indian was helping him anyway, so for the moment, he would let him be. With Henry whimpering away inside his head telling him to leave everyone else alone, Edward decided against mutilation at this point in time.

            Maybe later, he decided with a grim smile, punching another man into the ground.


	26. Hysteria

**A/N: **This one's long, but it has some action. At long last, hehehehe! I'm glad (still) that you guys are enjoying this. Not many left to go! This is where it starts to get tense and I (hopefully) watch you all cringe and scream as I leave you eager for more...

* * *

            Anise couldn't bear to meet his gaze, knew he was looking at her, maybe even pleadingly. She wished now that she had at least gone ahead with his request. She knew how it felt to live a cursed existence, so why was she forcing one upon Tom as well? Did she want to be with him that much?

            She had told him she loved him, but after denying him his freedom, even in death, maybe she had lied. Maybe she simply felt for him... she couldn't tell. Everything was in such a mess.

            Charles Evans stood beside her, holding a large imposing dagger in his right hand. He looked absolutely ecstatic, but was containing it well behind an unnerving smile. He was staring down at Tom with malice and expectation. His eyes turned to Anise.

            Anise looked at him, coldly. Evans almost laughed at the anger he saw in her. 

            She still couldn't believe he was demanding this of her. How could he be so masochistic? Was there some kind of sick pleasure he was hoping to gain from watching her do this? He had never made her do this before, in fact no other female had been granted this 'honour' until today. 

            It was always 'strong' people like Jacques or Alessandro -bullies in fact- who were asked to do this. He claimed it was because of her affection for Tom that she was being asked to ruin his life, but she seriously doubted this. She knew Evans was trying to teach her a lesson. He knew she despised everything about what she was, what she had become, and now she was being made to force this upon another.

            Anise wished more than anything that she could take that dagger from Evans right there and then and end this any way possible. She looked at Tom. She wished she hadn't immediately.

            The hurt in his green eyes was almost too much to bear, and she fought back her emotions, and glanced to the other faces in the room as a means of escape. They were all watching her and Evans eagerly. Some of them were smiling, perhaps in mocking, at her. It was no secret how she felt, thanks to Beauvais and his bullies. Samura and Jamila were glaring, but the latter was also occasionally looking down at Tom, maybe hungrily or... was that longing in her eyes?

            Anise glared, but Jamila didn't notice. She did, however, stop looking at Tom altogether.

            Evans stopped in front of Tom, and Anise halted by his side, her eyes downcast still. The man looked to her again, and cleared his throat. She didn't respond. Everything in the room was silent now. It was unnerving. All eyes were on the three of them... four if you counted Jacques, who was holding Tom rather roughly by the back of his shirt collar.

            "Well?" Evans mumbled to her, tilting her face up by her chin to look in her eyes. "Do I have to jog your memory as to why you are here?"

            Anise shook her head. All she needed was a distraction. Anything... she didn't care what it was. Anything that would give her the oppurtunity to undo all of this.

            Jacques gripped Tom tighter, but this time by his right arm, and there was a muffled cry. Some of the crowd smirked, one or two even laughed. Anise glared at Jacques, who was wearing the ghost of smile.

            "Anise?" Evans pushed, gripping the hilt of the dagger tighter, dangerously so. She had no idea what he planned to do with the weapon. She had always tried to avoid these events before. "Would you be so kind as to make the final addition to our collection?"

            She wished he wouldn't call it that... like they were nothing but objects. If it weren't for her, perhaps none of the others would be here at all. Thinking about this, she looked up to Evans, about to respond when the sound of distant gunfire made all heads turn.

* * *

            Hyde bellowed angrily at the shots fired at him, and Skinner covered his head, ducking to the floor as bullets zipped over him. He wasn't exactly as discreet as he would have liked now that Nemo had handed him some items. They hung over his shoulder now, but he tried to keep them out of view lest they become a target.

            Hyde surged forward, lunging and tearing at people, and Skinner grimaced at the carnage. On the other side of the overly guarded area, Mina and Nemo were pushing forward, dispatching of the cronies. At least, Skinner hoped they were. Their plans had changed somewhat.

            Silence descended in the corridor, and Skinner poked his head out from his hiding place, and blinked. Hyde had managed to make it to the double doors to what seemed to be a vast room. Skinner emerged entirely from his alcove, and came up beside Hyde, who looked down at the rough area where he stood. The monster grunted in question.

            Skinner reached forward tentatively, finding the doors locked. He sighed, and met the gaze of Hyde. "Care to make us an entrance then?"

            Hyde reached back with both fists.

* * *

            The sudden absence of noise from outside was a little unsettling, and Tom looked quickly back to Evans and Anise, his hair in his eyes now from the brisk movement. Jacques still stood behind him.

            Evans looked slightly panicked, and handed the dagger to Jacques, throwing him a certain look and saying, "Come and find me when it's over. You know what to do." With that he ducked out of a sliding panel on the far wall, leaving the others behind. Anise looked unnerved now, even more so. She was glancing frantically from side to side with wide eyes.

            Silence descended on the other side of the hall where there was another set of double doors, and Tom swallowed dryly.

            _Please_, he thought, _please let it be them. _

            Who else could it be? Short of the authorities, but Tom seriously doubted they would even make it this far. 

            Growls started to fill the air, and more than one member of the congregation began to transform as Jacques had before. He recognised two of them. They stood a head and shoulders above the rest now, and paced to the doors, sniffing the air curiously and irritably.

            That was when the wall to the right of Tom exploded inwards, the double doors flying through the air and knocking people off their feet. They scrambled back up off the floor, and looked up through the shower of falling plaster and brick at a towering monster.

            It was Hyde... Edward Hyde.

            Tom would have smiled, if everyone hadn't been rushing about madly all of a sudden at the site of the monstrosity. Some were trying to attack him, to little effect, and many were trying to push past him.

            Hyde swung out at the ones who got too close, and Tom noticed he was careful not to let them strike him in return, especially the partially transformed ones. They fell to the floor, some stunned, others merely unconscious. Hyde pressed into the room, snarling angrily. Strips of black and white material hung off of him, the remnants of Dr Jekyll's clothing. Something floated mysteriously behind him, and Tom gathered this to be Skinner. He was carrying something, but Tom couldn't see what.

            The doors to the left burst in, one hanging off its hinges dangerously at an angle, shattered at its joining. A cloud of black swept in screeching and covered the ceiling. The noise was almost unbearable but recognisable and therefore a mild comfort. 

            It was Mina, her bats in escort. Nemo was in the doorway, dispatching of whatever stragglers he could when they started to retreat. The room was almost empty in no time. It was a marvel to think it had been almost full moments before. 

            There was a sudden tug on the back of Tom's shirt, and he was lifted to his feet roughly, swung to face Hyde, and gripped tightly by the throat. He felt the blade of the dagger against his skin, and made sure not to move too quickly. 

            Jacques was growling down his ear, and breathing quite heavily now, apparently rather aggravated that the League had burst in to ruin the engagement. Anise was out of Tom's line of sight now. He couldn't tell where she was, or even if she was still in the room. He highly doubted it.

            The cloud of bats swirled down to the ground almost gracefully, coiling around a figure that seemed to absorb the creatures before glaring at Tom's captor. The hand around his throat gripped slightly, and he almost choked. He closed his eyes for a moment, hearing the clinking footfalls of Captain Nemo from behind. Jacques whirled, Tom still in his grasp, and followed the movements of the Indian man as he joined the other three.

            Tom opened his eyes, and looked right at Mina. She stared right back at him. There was a certain something in her gaze that Tom couldn't decipher. He knew better than to struggle, and trusted that Jacques wouldn't kill him... Evans wanted this too badly. At least he hoped so.

            "Release him..." Mina warned in a dangerous tone. Her slightly curled hair framed her face, but the cold light in her eyes was visible. "You are outnumbered."

            "Only for the time being," Jacques retorted, tightening his grip on Tom again. Tom closed his eyes momentarily, and then looked to Mina, warning her with his gaze that the man holding him wasn't exactly stable.

            Hyde tried to push forward, but Mina held up a hand, taking the mantle as leader again, as she had many times before since Quatermain's demise. Tom had to admit; she was pretty damn good at it. It was hard to disobey her.

            They seemed to have reached a stalemate of sorts. Jacques had Tom in his grasp at knifepoint, and the League were standing before them in all their brute force, ready for a fight when one didn't seem forthcoming. 

            "You have no choice," Nemo voiced, "even if you kill him, which we know very well you won't, we will still pursue you. You will still be killed."

            _Not a very good argument_, Tom thought, eyeing the Captain, wondering where he was going with this. He just hoped they hurried up. He was starting to feel a little light-headed again. 

            He shifted on his feet slightly, and Jacques pressed the knife to his throat more firmly, and Tom stopped at once. Mina stepped forward, and she took on a dangerous appearance without actually changing.

            Jacques laughed, and Tom took in as deep a breath as he could manage, throwing Mina a look again, one that he knew demanded that she think of something fast. There was a look of deep concentration on her face. He hoped she wasn't considering doing anything that could get his throat slit... even though he knew that wasn't the main issue here. Evans and his men had to be stopped by any means necessary.

            "So, I can still kill the boy?" Jacques asked lightly, with humour in his tone. "How generous..."

            "He didn't say that," Mina growled, and there was a flash of red in her eyes that Jacques seemed to recognise. There was a rumble deep in his own throat, and he gripped Tom tighter.

            "A vampire... interesting... I wasn't certain before," Jacques said quietly, mostly down Tom's ear. "I have little to worry about from you then, beast."

            "I would not be so certain of that," Mina grumbled, drawing two long thin blades from her coat and holding them pointing down at the floor.

            Jacques' grip from Tom's throat fell away and transferred to his wounded shoulder yet again, and he squeezed, knife still in position. Tom tried not to give in to the pain, but gave a muffled cry anyway, clamping his eyes shut and gritting his teeth against the gag.

            "Um... Mina?" came the voice of Skinner quietly as Jacques continued to squeeze relentlessly. "Maybe you should-"

            "Put the knives down?" Jacques finished for the invisible man, "yes, I would have to agree, before I decide to rip this wound _right_ open."

            Mina looked dissuaded from her previously decided course of action, and dropped the blades to the floor with a light clang. 

            "Now what will you do?" Jacques taunted, relieving the pressure slightly on the wound, but not releasing it entirely. "You are powerless to stop me, even with a vampire and a..." he looked to Hyde, "whatever he is."

            Hyde growled. He looked to Mina, as if asking if he could attack yet. 

            The sound of a hammer cocking was heard, shortly before a shot filled the cavernous room and Jacques jolted, letting out a wail, releasing Tom purely out of shock. 

            The knife missed his neck by an inch as it dropped to the floor, even as Tom fell to one knee, breathing hard, trying to stay awake. Someone had shot Jacques, and he looked over his shoulder, catching a fleeting glance of someone he guessed to be Anise. They were gone in an instant, Jacques giving pursuit when he realised the League would be able to come for him now.

            Mina knelt down before Tom, and removed the gag from his mouth, looking him in the eye, bowing her head down slightly as she asked, "Are you all right?"

            "Never better," Tom lied, wincing at the pain in his shoulder. Mina started to untie his hands, seeing the wound at the same time. 

            "You need to get that seen to."

            "You're telling me, but until then, I plan to go after Evans."

            When his hands were free, he pushed himself off the floor, wavering slightly, before standing to his full height. 

            "Are you sure you're up for it?" Skinner asked from the rear, behind Hyde. "You look a little worse for wear."

            "I'll be okay," Tom assured him. He stretched his aching limbs slightly, and took a deep breath. He pointed at the wall. "Evans went down there."

            "I'll get through," Hyde grumbled, moving towards it. He pounded his fist against the wall three times in succession, smashing through the hidden door, revealing a passage.

            Tom cocked his head with a slight smile. "I guess I'm headed that way then. I take it you're going to round up the werewolves?"

            Mina didn't look very eager for Tom to go off on his own, and he appreciated her concern. She was looking at him with a questioning expression in her eyes.

            "I will begin on the hunt for the creatures," Nemo stated, signalling to Hyde for him to follow. Jekyll's alter ego nodded gruffly, and paced off after the Indian. Before long, they were out of sight, and Tom thought he heard Nemo calling to some of his men.

            "Look," Tom began, catching Mina's attention by touching her arm lightly, "I'm sorry I didn't listen before. I shouldn't have trusted Anise so blindly."

            Mina shook her head. "I am just glad you are all right, Tom. I did not mean to offend you before."

            "Forget about it," Tom said with a smile, "we can apologise later."

            Mina gave him a half smile. She nodded. "Are you sure you can handle Evans by yourself?"

            "I'll give it a go, but if you hear any screaming, don't hesitate to come help, okay?" He laughed, but Mina raised an eyebrow, and he stopped. He cleared his throat, and gave her an apologetic glance.

            "Well, if you're going off on a crusade," Skinner began, pacing over to them, "you might need these."

            He handed something out to Tom, and he turned, seeing it was his pistols and holsters. Tom took them, and slipped them on, feeling better for the weight. He'd forgotten about his spares aboard the Nautilus, and was suddenly glad for bringing them along in the first place. The others were around this maze somewhere.

            Skinner slipped something off his shoulder and tossed it to him. Tom caught it, and checked it was loaded, furrowing his brow at the rounds, extracting one.

            "Silver," Mina offered by way of explanation. "Aim for the heart or the brain, and you will kill them. Otherwise, you will simply harm them. Normal bullets will have no effect. These will be excruciating for them though."

            Tom couldn't stop the smile. "Good. Bit of a waste to use them on Evans though, really, isn't it?"

            "You could always find your other guns," Skinner suggested lightly, and Tom was sure the man shrugged, though he couldn't see it. He was guessing his six-shooters were loaded with silver as well. No doubt Nemo had developed the rounds.

            Tom looked to where the gun had come from, the place where he guessed Skinner was standing and sighed, shrugging for himself. He took the weight of the rifle in his left hand, his right arm still tingling from Jacques' pressure on it, and poked his head inside the corridor. It was -not surprisingly- dark and gloomy, deep pockets of shadow lingering threateningly. 

            He looked back at Mina and Skinner, took a deep breath, and then entered the darkness.


	27. At Hand

**A/N: **This chapter is quite violent, but we get some nice doses of excitement and action :D Thanks once again to all my lovely kind reviewers... you know I love you!

* * *

             Evans knew as he exited his hidden corridor, that he should have brought the American with him to ensure he did not escape... or worse, die. If he were killed -probably by Jacques if at all- then it would all be ruined. The only other viable candidate was no longer available, hadn't been for some time now.

            Grumbling to himself, he yanked up his cane from by the door and wondered what the hell he was going to do. Pacing back and forth in his secure quarters, with lush soft carpets and four-poster bed, Charles cursed under his breath in every language he knew... and there were quite a few. What with all the foreign company he kept, how could he not have learned?

            Shouting loudly, he threw the cane against the wall, hearing it clatter to the floor, almost covering the sound of a cocking rifle... almost, but not quite. He took in a deep breath and turned.

            "Ah... Agent Sawyer, how lovely to see you alive."

            There was no humour on Sawyer's young, somewhat bruised face. He was holding his damned Winchester rifle in both hands, although his right arm seemed a little shaky.

            Charles decided that if he got the chance, he could use this to his advantage. That was, if Sawyer's attention slipped for long enough, or if he was even planning to kill him.

            "You look a little angry, Agent Sawyer," Charles noted with a smile. "That wouldn't happen to have anything to do with me, would it?"

            "Now what gives you that idea?" Sawyer asked with a sarcastic edge, the rifle pointed squarely at Charles' face. That would make a bit of a mess... not to mention being extremely painful and permanent on the top of that.

            "Oh, I don't know," Charles added, stalling for time, "just a feeling."

            Sawyer's attention wavered slightly, but only slightly. The gun lowered momentarily, and his eyes closed briefly, before he was focused once again, jaw set grimly. 

            "Are you going to kill me? You see, because I highly doubt that you would," Charles began bravely, seeing the lapses in Sawyer's attention. The blood from the wound on the shoulder had stained through the fabric now, and had spread over onto the front a little way so it was visible from where Charles stood. "You don't seem the kind to behave rashly. Not from what dear Anise tells me."

            A shot from the Winchester exploded into one of the posts of the bed, inches from Charles' head, and wood splintered everywhere. Charles flinched slightly, and looked to Sawyer with a new respect... only a slight shade however. Had he intended to miss?

            "The next one won't miss," Sawyer warned, and suddenly everything in him was confident. He wasn't shaking or hesitating anymore. He had an air of certainty around him that Charles did not take comfort in.

            He believed him. That last shot had been intentional, to scare him, and he had to admit -to himself at least- that it was working. He had no doubt that at this range, pretty much wherever he was hit, the rifle would kill him.

            And just as Sawyer was loading the next round in the chamber, Jacques picked that moment to burst in through the door that only he -other than Evans- knew existed. He was snarling madly, dripping blood -yet again- onto the carpet. Charles sighed and rolled his eyes.

            Jacques barrelled into Sawyer, knocking them both to the ground, and Charles snatched up his cane and fled out the door, leaving them to their own business.

* * *

            Tom lost his grip on the rifle as soon as he hit the floor, mainly because Jacques had slammed into him from the right and started up the throbbing in his shoulder again, causing it to go slightly numb. He winced, and rolled away from Jacques' gripping hand, scrabbling away from him. He knew what would happen if Jacques wounded him with his bare hands... rather claws, which were becoming quite visible now. His eyes were flashing yellow and feral. Fangs were showing as he drew back his lips in a snarl. It was only then that Tom realised the werewolf had managed to take the pistols from his holsters, although he wasn't entirely sure how.

            The man was more than a little mad, and obviously planned to take that anger out on Tom, which the latter didn't prefer. Jacques said something to him, but it came out in French so Tom was at a loss as to comprehend... it did not sound pleasant. Far from an apology anyway.

            Tom kicked out at him, catching him across the bottom jaw, and snapping his head away. That only served to anger him more, and there was a slight ripping as the back on his shirt gave way as he started to transform. The hair on his forearms was spreading and thickening madly. 

            Green eyes frantically searched the immediate area for anything of use, and they landed on something he vividly remembered falling victim to not long ago.

            Jacques half-crawled, half-scurried towards him, and he was snarling like a rabid dog now, fangs exposed, locks of hair on his head spreading over his face, his features contorting. He looked like something out of a nightmare.

            Tom grabbed the object, and hurled it at Jacques, watching as it smashed in his face, sending glass and liquid in all directions. Tom shielded his own face with his arm, not exactly desperate to get any on himself.

            There was a yelp, and Tom looked up from his momentary shelter to see Jacques rubbing at his eyes madly, trying to get the liquid out before it damaged.

            Chloroform... that was what Evans had called it. Tom wasn't sure what effect it would have on Jacques, but it seemed to be stinging his eyes at least. That was when he noticed something sitting on the table near to his head, rather, two things... Colt pistols in fact. 

            When Jacques opened his eyes as much as he could to look at Tom, the barrels of two six-shooters were aimed squarely on him, and the American smiled smugly.

            "Hey, it's not silver, but..."

             He opened fire, hearing the screaming wails as bullet after bullet ripped into Jacques, spraying blood and ripping fabric, halting him in mid-transformation. 

            _You're running out of bullets_, Tom's mind chattered, and he paid heed to it, slinging the weapons aside the moment they clicked on empty, taking up the next nearest object and attacking with that instead.

            The fire poker pierced Jacques' left shoulder and drove him back and down, right into the floor. Jacques shrieked in pain, and tried to lash out with his right arm, but Tom had already thrown himself out of the way. He landed mostly on his back with a thud, his hair in his face now, and he looked quickly to the pinned werewolf, knowing it wouldn't hold him for long.

            Scrabbling to his knees, he grabbed his two loaded pistols and replaced them in his holsters, snatching up his Winchester and running from the room.

            It was only when he was halfway down the corridor that he mentally slapped himself for not disposing of Jacques there and then, when he had had the perfect oppurtunity. He had no doubt that he would be back to torment him later, extremely annoyed about the bullets and the fire poker.

* * *

            Nemo spun and leapt as he kicked and punched, lashing out with frightening speed, breaking bone and spilling blood at every turn. His sword sat at his hip in its scabbard, unused for the time being. He was handling these creatures well enough, with Hyde just a little way down the corridor making his own fun.

            Nemo ducked and blocked enemy attacks, using everything at his disposal: arms; legs; hands; feet; knees and elbows. Everything was a weapon or a shield. 

            He was surrounded by perhaps six opponents, none of them having transformed like others he had seen. Maybe they were unable... it mattered little to Nemo. They fell around him like dead weights, only to spring angrily to their feet once again immediately afterwards. They seemed more than irritated that an 'ordinary' man such as this could be defeating them.

            But Nemo knew he had not killed any... far from it. He needed to use his sword.

            Drawing it swiftly from its scabbard with a ring of metal, he started swinging, still striking with arms and legs like a whirlwind of destruction.

* * *

            Down the corridor from Nemo, Hyde was thoroughly enjoying all the destruction. He was swinging his arms madly, laughing loudly, and knocking figures in all directions whilst they snarled and whimpered as they landed, breaking bones. Some tried to lash back out at him, but he dodged, surprisingly agile for his bulk.

            He knew he had something around here, perhaps even in his mind, that he needed to remember. But what was it? He tried to recall the information given to him by Nemo and the others at the beginning.

            The voice of Henry was heard calling from somewhere in the back of his skull, and instead of shoving it aside for once he listened as he moved. With a smile, he understood.

            He snatched up the nearest werewolf, and took them in both mighty hands, using his brute strength to snap its neck clean in half. It fell limply to the floor amidst its comrades, who looked to Hyde warily now. One or two made to retreat, stopped by their fellows. They lunged for him again.

            With a roar of excitement at his new method, he grabbed up another.

* * *

            Now that his burdens were removed, he was far more inconspicuous. He could sneak and hide in plain view once again, and he was truly in his element. Although he had never had werewolves around him before, not like this. They were rushing everywhere in somewhat of a panic. The vampire down the corridor was dealing out a swift and painful death to anyone who came too close, and Skinner was picking off the stragglers with a silver blade he had been given.

            He stabbed at the people who tried to retreat from Mina, catching them sometimes in the wrong place. It didn't matter; it stopped them in their tracks anyway. The silver created enough of a lasting wound for him to find his true target: the heart. He wasn't prepared to go for the brain... the chest would do for him, messy as that was.

            He had killed a few now, and he tried to scatter the heavy bodies so as not to reveal his true position. The numbers were slimming fast, and already he could see the different nationalities at his feet. An Indian and a Chinese man were among the most obvious. 

            Preparing himself for the next target, he straightened himself up, and readied the blade.

* * *

            She had to be extremely careful now. The werewolves were aware of her 'condition', and were wary of her, striking out at length. That mattered very little to her, for she would strike at their arms and legs as a means to get them distracted. Them she would hit them where it hurt, where it was bound to do the most damage.

            She was faced with an African woman then, who was snarling madly, and the others backed away slightly, as if recognising a challenge. Mina raised her eyebrows, and smiled wanly.

            The woman began to contort and change, but not completely. Her hands were still mostly human, save for the elongated fingers and stretched claws. Her eyes were a feral yellow now, and bestial fangs dripped saliva hungrily. Her clothing had ripped in places to reveal dark skin covered with coarse hair.

            "Very well," Mina mumbled, even as the others skulked off to find other targets, "have it your way."

            And the werewolf pounced, or at least tried to. Mina ducked and rolled with a flurry of leather, and was soon facing the monster from behind. The beast turned and bellowed, infuriated, and swiped at her with a long arm, claws extended.

            The claws missed her by inches, and she felt the rush of air disturb her curled hair, and stabbed at the werewolf with a dagger, falling short.

            The two stabbed and slashed at one another for quite some time, working themselves into a frenzy. Mina's heart was racing and her mind was fogged by the urge to rip this animal to pieces. She had no doubt that the werewolf felt the same way.

            That was when the female creature lashed at her with more emphasis than before, her whole left arm swinging out enthusiastically, aimed for Mina's head. The vampire dodged, just barely, and heard the arm slam into the wall.

            She took the oppurtunity that presented itself, and with all the strength in her left arm, rammed the dagger into the wrist of the werewolf, which let out a shriek of pain. It struggled to get out of the trap, even as Mina dodged the other clawed hand on the way to dispose of the creature.

            She looked into its gaze as she plunged the dagger into its chest, knowing it had pierced the heart by the way the light seemed to fade from its eyes. It gave a choked noise, and then slumped against the wall, hand still pinned.

            Mina watched it die with little satisfaction all of a sudden. Why had this one werewolf been so intent on destroying her? But now that she thought about it further, Mina had seen only one other female. Perhaps this was some sort of territorial challenge.

            No matter now... it was over for her anyway. Mina reached down with both hands, and pulled her daggers from their respective holds, seeing the body hit the floor with a dull thud.

            Mina pressed on, pushing the battle from her mind.

* * *

            It was amazing that no matter where he went it seemed deserted. There seemed to be no one around now. He could hear the far off sounds of combat though, and knew the League members were probably fighting for their lives. They were probably succeeding too. It was no secret they were talented.

            Nemo with his strength and martial arts was a frightening and awe-inspiring spectacle, especially when he brought that sword of his into play. Skinner with his stealth and secrecy was a little intimidating... it didn't help that you never quite knew where he was when he wanted to go unseen. Jekyll with his alter ego of Hyde was impressive and terrifying... Tom remembered his first encounter with Hyde, who had nearly managed to take his head off with a chain that _had_ been secured to the wall. And then there was Mina with her knowledge of science, and her vampiric talents. There were no words to describe Mina other than extraordinary. She fit the title well.

            The Winchester was raised at once when he heard a sound from a room at the very end of the corridor he was travelling, the door facing him. There was something on the other side, moving about, shifting things as if trying to leave and take a few things with them.

            Maybe it was Evans... then again maybe not. He would find out in a moment. Tom stepped up to the door cautiously, treading carefully and quietly so whoever it was would not hear his approach.

            When he tried the door handle, he found it unlocked, and opened it quickly, aiming the rifle, finding he had it pointed squarely at Anise's chest.


	28. Turmoil

**A/N: **Finally, my basis picture for Jacques Beauvais in on the net! I know it took me aaaaages, and he's not in this for much longer, but check it out... let me know what you think :D It's a bit of a blah picture, but I saw it, and was like "JACQUES!". Anyway, thanks for the reviews, guys. This is getting tense now, can you feel it?

* * *

            She stopped at once, startled and afraid, and stared into Tom's slightly widened eyes as he took in the sight of her. He looked a bit of a mess now after this ordeal, bloody and bruised, and more tousled than usual. It was a marvel he could see through the curtain of hair.

            Anise turned to face him properly, her body in line with his, and she cocked her head. If he was going to shoot her, then so be it. She was ready... wasn't she? Did she really want to die?

            It was either death or this existence... suddenly she wasn't so sure.

            She was about to speak when she caught something in the corner of her eye through the doorway.

* * *

            Bleeding and aching all over, Jacques pulled himself around the corner, his strength already rebuilding to its previous level, and his focus returning to him. That boy had certainly caused some damage, but luckily, it was all starting to repair itself now.

            Growling sinisterly, Jacques let his yellow eyes cast about in the gloom of the dimly lit corridor, and caught sight of an open doorway. He picked out two figures inside, and smiled grimly with satisfaction.

            Maybe this wasn't turning out to be so terrible after all... what was a little pain when this was the reward?

            He charged, launching himself into the room before the stupid girl could utter a sound to announce his presence.

* * *

            Tom was becoming all too familiar with the floors in this damn place, as something barrelled into him from behind, stunning him, making him ache all over again. He rested his head against the floor, wincing and breathing heavily as he tried to steady himself enough to regain his footing.

            It was Jacques... it had to be. Who else _could_ it be? Anise had let out a small cry when Tom was hit, but did not move otherwise, even as the fingers entwined themselves in his blonde hair, pulling his head up roughly. He stifled a cry.

            "Well," Jacques panted, "isn't this interesting? Here we have a perfect oppurtunity to finish what was started." Tom wondered whether his eyes were still stinging... he hoped so.

            Anise spoke, but it was not in English. Jacques replied similarly, and Tom wished they would just change back to a language he could understand. He knew very well what the topic of conversation was, and was desperate to hear what they were saying.

            Jacques pulled his head to one side as he shouted something, and Tom winced with the pain of it. The man had taken a tight hold of Tom's right arm as well now, making it near impossible for him to move.

            As he waited for something to happen, or for an oppurtunity to try and escape -again-, Tom listened, wishing he understood French.

* * *

            Jacques and Anise faced one another off in the small room that had served as the latter's quarters for nearly two years. He looked beyond livid, shaking with rage, but still able to string sentences together as he held Tom in a vice grip.

            "I won't do it, Jacques, and you know that. You've known that all along." Anise stood up to him now, no longer afraid.

            Jacques scowled at her. "You will do what you were commanded to do."

            "No I will not," Anise growled back at him. "I won't follow your orders anymore. Can't you see? It's over, Jacques... everything is in ruins around you and you still strive to do this one thing for that pathetic excuse of a man."

            Jacques snarled at her. "If you won't do this, Anise, you will have to watch me do it instead." He tugged Tom's head violently to one side for emphasis. "Would you rather that happened?"

            Anise stared at him; breathing rapidly now for fear that he would actually go through with his threat. If there was anything worse than her own existence, it was the knowledge that Jacques had been the reason for her change. He loved forcing it upon others, and they usually ended up cruel and insane like him. Anise didn't want that at all.

            "You wouldn't dare..."

            "Wouldn't I? If you go ahead with your duty, then I will not have to, and you can do whatever you like... kill yourself for all I care." Jacques wasn't joking... the sincerity on his face was frightening.

            "I won't... I can't."

            Tom looked into her eyes, and she felt her heart racing uncontrollably, her breathing quickened even more to the point of struggling. Jacques was going to do it. She couldn't let him. He would probably kill Tom... he wasn't himself, he was wounded and crazed.

            Anise could not let him do this to anyone, let alone Tom. Not anymore. She had to stop him.

* * *

            He had tried to prize himself free of Jacques' unbelievably tight grip to no avail, and the fingers kept twining more viciously in his hair. He still couldn't understand a word they were saying heatedly to one another, but he had no doubt that they were discussing what they had been planning to do before the League had interrupted.

            Tom could feel Jacques' hot breath against his neck, and it wasn't particularly pleasant. He hoped Anise was planning something, and fast... something that included getting the maniac away from him.

            That was when they suddenly stopped using French, whether by accident or not, Tom didn't hazard to guess, but Jacques yelled, "Do it!"

            "I can't! I won't!" was Anise's shouted reply, and she closed her eyes tightly.

            "Do it, Anise!"

            The rage on her face was unmistakable, and he had never seen so much raw emotion explode out of her, as she practically screamed, "No!"

            Jacques growled bestially down Tom's ear, and then gripped him even tighter, if such a thing was possible. It was painful, and Tom knew very well what the man was planning to do, so he struggled anyway, trying to strike out at Jacques with little success.

            He was getting closer, Tom could feel it, and he clamped his eyes closed, waiting for it to happen, helpless to prevent it himself.

* * *

            "No!" Anise screamed again, as Jacques' fangs almost grazed Tom's neck. Her mind raced for something to do to stop him, and unable to fight the urge she leapt forward, and wrenched her hands into Jacques' arm and neck, heaving him off the ground as best she could, using all her strength to throw him bodily through the air and away.

* * *

            Tom heard her scream, and then felt the force grab at Jacques', tearing him off the ground. The man's grip on Tom was so tight of course, that when he lifted off the ground, so did the American.

            Being on the ground floor, Anise's quarters had an impressive double glass panelled door, and Jacques and Tom were thrown into it, and subsequently through it in a shower of wood and glass. 

            Tom gave a cry as something scratched his lower arm, and he prayed it wasn't Jacques, even as they slammed into the ground on the other side, the werewolf sprawling down the stone steps nearby. Tom rolled with the landing as he had trained himself to do, aching all over and in a moderate state of shock as to what had just happened.

            Jacques had landed at the foot of the stairs roughly, and was growling like an enraged animal, which was what he in fact resembled. He was sprouting hair and claws again now, eyes blazing with anger, fangs elongating and face stretching.

            Tom looked to his arm quickly, only mildly relieved to see a piece of glass there. He pulled it out without hesitation, gasping at the stinging. He looked back to Jacques, who was pressing towards him now with urgency.

            Tom pushed himself backwards, hands trying to avoid the glass that had been scattered all over the floor, and tried to pull himself to his feet, even as Jacques reached the top of the steps, bellowing at him as if he were to blame for the previous incident.

            He loomed over Tom now, all fangs and fury, raising a clawed arm to strike, snarling madly at him. His eyes were alight with malice and longing, and his maw opened wide.

            As Tom's back brushed up against the broken doorframe, with Jacques' hands reaching for him eerily, something exploded out of the opening above him, barrelling bodily into the other creature and dragging him down the steps into the ground again.

            "What the..." Tom mumbled, scrambling to his knees and shaking his hair from his eyes. 

            There, picking herself up in the garden in front of him was Anise, panting and dishevelled. Jacques was gaining his footing again some few feet away. Anise's head turned to Tom's, and he sucked in a breath at her appearance.

            Her hair was wild, her eyes glowing that menacing yellow he had seen in others before. Her hands were lengthening and stretching even as they stared at one another, and her face began to contort. She was starting to look less and less like Anise Delacroix, and more like one of those... things. A werewolf.

            "Go!" she shouted at him curtly, eyes burning into him even from where she stood.

            Tom looked to Jacques, even as he lunged for Anise, and he was upon her before he could utter a warning. He was so confused he didn't know what to do... first she had lulled him into a false sense of security, all shy and nervous; then she had betrayed him, delivering him to Evans so they could complete some sort of multi-national collection of werewolf spies or something of the sort; and now she had saved his life. He didn't know what to think. His head began to pound.

            "Go, Tom!"

            He saw her lash out at Jacques, talons catching him across the chest. She had almost completed her change now, and barely resembled the woman he had let himself fall for.

            As if on instinct, he pulled his pistols from their holsters, and then froze. They had come so close together now, slashing and rolling around with such frenzy that he couldn't tell them apart.

            Cursing loudly, he re-holstered them and ran back into the mansion, reclaiming his rifle once again, and moving on before the victor of the combat could come after him.


	29. Confrontations

**A/N: **Merry Christmas one and all! Thought I'd put this up as a kind of feeble gift to my readers and reviewers alike. Hope you all enjoy this part, and thanks for reviewing chapter 28. It's starting to crescendo now. 

* * *

             Mina surveyed the carnage at her feet. Blood covered the floor, making it hazardous to traverse in her boots, and she was a little ruffled now from the fighting. She had just taken down a rather snivelling German man, one who seemed to have seen much in this life, but wanted to end it all. He had given up disappointingly early.

            Stepping over the bodies, she saw the blade she had given to Skinner floating near the other end of the corridor. "Is that all of them?" she inquired, looking to where she suspected his face would be.

            There was a sigh, and he handed the dagger to her as he replied, "I think so. Can't see any live ones. I think you got 'em all."

            "Good," she hissed, kicking the dead body of one near her feet. "New York will be the better for it."

            There was a roar down the next corridor, directly followed by a loud crash as a body was hurled into the wall at the adjoining junction. It groaned and tried to rise, panting and nursing injuries, trying to free itself from the looming figure of Hyde as he stomped into view.

            Nemo came up before him, and held up a hand. "You have had your way with this one, Hyde. Even though he is a monster, he has suffered enough."

            There was a look of gratitude on the werewolf's face. Mina noticed that they were completely human in appearance... they had not transformed at all. Perhaps they had, and had decided it was useless against Hyde, who knew?

            Nemo raised his sword, and brought it down on the man's neck. The head rolled to the floor, and the body slumped, dead.

            With a light sigh, Mina picked her way through the corridor to join with her companions. 

            Hyde himself groaned loudly now, and grimaced. His formula was done. He started to jerk and convulse madly, twisting this way and that hideously as his own transformation began. There was a pained cry from the half-returned body of Jekyll, and within a matter of moments, after the last of the spasms subsided, Henry was back. He gasped and panted heavily, worn and exhausted, clutching his trousers at the waist to stop them from falling.

            "I think you need to get changed, mate," Skinner voiced, pointing to some of the dead figures at their feet. "I'm sure they won't mind."

            Jekyll nodded, and shuffled off to do as was suggested. After all, he couldn't very well walk back to the Nautilus almost naked. Mina smiled without humour, and watched him leave.

            "What of your men?" she asked Nemo, and the Indian turned his majestic head to her. He lifted a brow.

            "They were ordered out into the grounds when they have completed their tasks. I suspect they are converging there as we speak."

            Mina nodded, and glanced between the captain and Skinner's disembodied breathing. "And what of Tom Sawyer? Has anyone seen him since we split up?"

            Skinner may have shaken his head, for there was a delay before he said, "Not me. Not a sign of him."

            "I have not seen him in some time, Mrs Harker," Nemo offered.

            It wasn't long before Jekyll returned, dressed rather oddly in some clothes that were a little too large for him. But still, it was better than having to hold his own trousers up. The shirt was sporting a rather large hole in the side, perhaps where Skinner had stabbed the previous owner, and there was another in the chest. Apparently, he had missed the first time. Jekyll had located some scuffed shoes to slip on, tying the laces hurriedly in order to get back to them. The trousers were grubby. All in all, he looked a little like a London tramp.

            "We should find Mr Sawyer," Nemo suggested wisely, and looked up and down the corridor.

            "And how do you suggest we do that? This place is huge," Skinner said with an edge. "It could take us hours. We'd have to check room by room."

            Mina's head turned at a sound that her sensitive hearing picked up on. She listened, and heard the sound again, recognising it this time. "Or we could just follow the gunfire."

* * *

            Charles had made it all the way to his public quarters where he had first encountered Sawyer in his own home, and was making an attempt to gather up the most vital objects to him so he could abandon his mansion. Everything was going wrong now, he had seen the first signs when the damned League had burst in and interrupted the siring. Now he had seen many bodies of his former 'employees' lying dead in the corridors on his way here, and he was infuriated.

            It had been his focus for the last two years to build all of this up, and now the League had ruined it. It was all that Sawyer boy's fault, him and Anise. She had grown too attached to the damn American, and if she hadn't they would have gotten this over with long ago, and there would be no resistance.

            As he reached for his jacket and hat on the coat rack, he heard the cocking of a rifle once again as he had before, and with a deep irritated sigh, he turned around, cane still in his hand. "You again... you seem intent on ruining me, boy."

            "I'm not a boy," he growled, and aimed down the barrel of his Winchester rifle. If it weren't for the threat of the gun, Charles would have destroyed him right there and then. "And you tried to kill me."

            "I tried to turn you, there's a difference," Charles informed him none too politely, thoroughly impatient now. He just wanted this American disposed of so he could start his life up somewhere else. Perhaps if he could find Jacques they would be able to begin again.

            "Same thing in my book."

            Charles rolled his eyes at the narrow-minded outlook the boy was showing. "If it makes you feel any better, my dear boy, you were not even my first choice."

            The gun wavered slightly, but did not lower in its aim. Sawyer cocked his head slightly more to one side as he awaited clarification.

            _Very well_, Charles thought, resting one hand on his cane as he stood, _he wants the truth, then he can have it._

            "I'm sure you will recall a fellow Secret Service Agent... as I understand, a good friend of yours." Charles raised his eyebrows, hoping the boy would understand now.

            Apparently he did. "Huckleberry Finn," he said quietly, and the barrel of the gun lowered now, as if his concentration were lost.

            Maybe Charles would get out of here alive after all. "Yes. The boy showed great potential, but unfortunately he was killed before we could get to him. A bit of a shame really."

            It happened so quickly, he barely noticed it, but Charles saw Sawyer release the rifle with his right hand, snatch a pistol from his holster and pull the trigger.

            Charles managed not to cry out too loudly as the bullet ripped into his shoulder, and he staggered with the impact. He breathed deeply and scowled at Sawyer, before letting out a dry, humourless laugh. "Close, were you?"

            Sawyer glared, the pistol in its holster once more now. Both hands were back on the rifle firmly, as he said, "You could say that. Talk about him that way again, and I'll aim higher."

            He meant it... Charles could tell. He had hit on a sore subject, and despite the urge to torment the boy further, Sawyer had a range weapon. Charles did not. He would drop it for now. If the oppurtunity came along later on, he would gladly take it.

            "Well... that was bracing," Charles mumbled sarcastically, and managed to draw himself up to his full height once again, the fresh wound on his shoulder burning.

            "Now we're even," Sawyer replied with a grim smile. 

            "Ah yes," Charles acknowledged quietly. "Unfortunately, now that my entire force has been destroyed, just about, you are no longer required alive." He chuckled under his breath at the movement in the shadows behind Sawyer from both sides. Some of his 'employees' had survived it seemed. At least two.

            As they stepped out slowly, he saw it to be Alessandro and Paulo. Good fighters, loyal and brutal. Just what he needed if he had any hopes of starting all this up again.

            Paulo moved closer to Sawyer, and it seemed as though the American had not seen him. That was, of course, until he spun swiftly and fired off a shot from the rifle. It seemed impossible anyone could move so fast.

            Paulo let out a scream, and fell back against the wall, growling with the agony. 

            "It can't be," Charles muttered disbelievingly as Paulo showed no signs of recovering. "How..."

            Sawyer had half-turned back to warn off Alessandro with the rifle now as he replied, "Well, see, the funny thing is, Mina Harker seems to think silver has some sort of serious affect on these guys." His green eyes floated over his shoulder to take in the agonised form of Paulo as he panted. "Looks like she was right."

            Alessandro snarled furiously at the wounding of his companion and made a move towards Sawyer, who pulled down smoothly on the lever of his rifle. Another round loaded into the barrel securely, the gun ready to fire again when needed.

            Sawyer cocked his head at Alessandro, and then shook his head. "I don't think so," he mumbled. There was a determined look on his young face.

            Charles knew he had to do something, and fast. The boy was taking the upper hand, and that was not favourable.

            Eyeing Alessandro, he made a motion towards Sawyer with his head. It seemed the Italian understood, and there may have been a hint of fear on his face. It was so unusual, Charles wasn't sure. He just gestured more forcefully, gripping the top of his cane tightly, though it pained his shoulder to do so.

            With a grim expression of resolve on his face, Alessandro lunged, knowing it could very well be the end of him. There was the resounding explosion from the gun, and Alessandro was thrown back, a bleeding hole in his chest. He writhed in agony, the mirror image of Paulo against the other wall.

            It was all Charles needed, and he lunged forward, ripping the shell of the cane-sword free, and tossing it aside, striking out with the blade. Sawyer seemed to sense what was going on, that he had been lured to distraction, and twisted his body, managing to avoid the blade by a mere inch.

            With an infuriated yell, spurred on by the blazing pain in his shoulder, Charles lunged again.


	30. Small Victories

**A/N: **It's all getting a bit tense, isn't it? (As always, thanks for the reviews, especially Sethoz, who bugged me relentlessly for this chapter!) I had to make a tough decision in this one...

* * *

            Startled, Tom only just avoided being impaled on the sword, frighteningly similar to that of Dorian Gray's, and stumbled back. He raised the rifle as the blade came down at his head and heard it collide with his gun. The blade slipped down the surface of the rifle towards his hand, and he drew it back and away shortly before it reached him.

            Swinging the stock of the rifle out like a club, Tom heard it slam against Evans' wounded shoulder with a resounding crack. There was a cry. But in lashing out blindly at the man, Tom had left himself open to enemy attack, and he gave a shout as the tip of the sword found its way into his left leg. 

            Using his right leg unsteadily, he kicked Evans in the stomach and fell away, landing on his back, trying to ignore the pain from the shallow wound. Before he realised what was going on, Alessandro was looming over him, snarling furiously.

            Instinctively, Tom raised the rifle over him and fired. Alessandro was blown back, and crashed to the floor, dead. Not many people _would_ survive a rifle shot to the face.

            Shaking his head, Tom rose from the floor, seeing Evans doing the same across the room. The Englishman started throwing things at Tom blindly, intending to knock him off balance perhaps.

            It was annoying more than anything, and Tom ducked and dodged to avoid being struck by the objects, several of which actually collided with the dying figure of the other werewolf, who shouted out in a foreign language that he expected was Spanish.

            Favouring one leg, Tom raised the rifle and fired it again, missing as Evans dived out of the way. The painting on the wall behind him splintered at the frame where it was struck.

            Tom loaded another round, and fired again at where Evans was ducking away from the flying shards of wood. This bullet managed to clip him along the back, and the man gave off a shout.

            Crazed now, the look in his eye mad and almost frightening, Evans lunged, flying at Tom, sword raised.

            Tom did not waver as he rose the barrel, cocking the lever, and pulled the trigger again, hopefully for the final time.

            Everything fell silent, save for the final gasps of the Spaniard, as Tom looked directly at Evans. The Englishman held a hand to his right side, where there was a generously bleeding hole. Evans' light eyes met Tom's, shortly before he stumbled and then fell to the floor.

            Tom stood there for a moment, before he winced openly at the pain in his leg. The blade had not managed to sink in too far, but it was still noticeable nevertheless. He hissed through clenched teeth, and looked down at his leg, where the wound was bleeding slightly. 

            He hobbled over to the body of Evans, and shouldered his rifle on the left side. He stared down at the lifeless figure for a long time, blood still oozing from the bullet wound Tom had inflicted, shortly before he heard a sound behind him, whirling.

* * *

            Bleeding from a dozen different wounds, and holding her left arm, Anise stumbled into the doorway of Evans' room, seeing Tom Sawyer facing her, startled. Perhaps he had not expected -or wanted- to see her alive again. 

            She was amazed to have survived herself. Jacques had been at his most ruthless before she had managed to tear his throat out, thus killing him. The taste of blood was still strong in her mouth, and it made her want to retch.

            Anise was badly wounded, she knew. She didn't care anymore. She wanted Tom to raise his gun and end it. He simply stood, amazed, staring at her, and she noticed he was favouring one leg slightly. Evans lay at his feet.

            Tom had killed him... he had done what she had longed for someone to do for two years. She had never had the strength of will or mind to do it herself.

            As she moved to take a step into the room towards him, something had a hold of her tightly, and had thrown her back against the wall near to the dead body of Paulo. She gasped at the agony it caused in her, but did not move from the position.

            Twin blades emerged from inside the long leather coat of Mina Harker, and in the blink of an eye, one was pressed against her chest over her heart, and the other to her neck.

            "No!" Tom shouted, but almost stumbled when he moved to stop his companion.

            The others emerged after that, and Jekyll had moved to Tom at once, who made to shove him away. There was a jacket floating near to him that symbolised Skinner, and Nemo brought up the rear, taking in the scene with dark eyes. He finally settled them on Anise.

            "She must be destroyed like the others," came his calm voice.

            "I agree," Harker said quietly, staring right into Anise's eyes. Anise looked right back, no longer afraid, though she did not know why.

            "Don't kill her," Tom called, although with less enthusiasm than before. 

            Jekyll looked his friend in the eye, and there was a clear expression on his face that spoke volumes. He wanted to check his companion was all right. "But, she tried to kill you."

            "No she didn't," Tom retorted, and pushed the doctor again. He was angry now. Anise didn't understand. Why was he doing this? She had betrayed him... she didn't deserve his efforts.

            "She handed you over to Evans and his men, and that is all we need to know," Harker voiced coldly, and raised an eyebrow knowingly at Anise. There was an air of triumph about the woman.

            "C'mon, Sawyer," Skinner began, and there was a sincerity in his voice that seemed to shock all, "how can there be good in her? You've seen what these things can do."

            Skinner was right. "Let them, Tom," Anise said, staring Harker in the face now, "I've done enough terrible things. There is very little good left in me now, as Mr Skinner says. Jacques drained that all out of me over the last two years."

            "How very noble," sighed Harker, and she almost sounded bored. "You heard her, Tom... she wants to die.

* * *

            "God dammit," Tom muttered angrily, and looked to them all in turn. How could they do this? True, he may not love her as he thought he had, but she had still spared him when she could have killed him. She had turned down the oppurtunity to turn him into one of their own as well... that had to stand for something.

            They didn't understand. He had to make them understand.

            "She could have killed me a dozen times already, but she hasn't," he said urgently. "How can you justify killing her now?"

            "She has done many terrible things," Nemo offered. Why did he always have to sound so damn certain?

            "You're not listening to me!" Tom blurted loudly. "She saved my life... she..." He stopped, looking at Anise. There was a resignation in her eyes that made Tom's heart sink. She wanted to die; she wanted it to be over.

            Sighing lightly, saddened now at the defeated look in those brown eyes, he asked, "Can't you help her?"

            "There is no cure," Anise told him with the ghost of a smile. "It's all right, Tom... this is what I want. I've hurt too many people, done too many terrible things. I want it to end."

            Mina looked to him, as if for verification, and he lowered his gaze. After all he'd been through, why was this so difficult? He had just heard Anise say the words to him... what choice did he have? He gave the smallest of nods, and then looked Anise in the eye finally. 

            "All right," he mumbled. "Do it."

            "Very well," Mina acknowledged, and Tom thought he detected a hint of sadness in her voice. There was no triumph on her face any longer.

            Anise closed her eyes, and took in a deep breath. No fear marred her features, though she did carry an air of sadness. This was for the best, he knew. 

            Watching Mina prepare herself, none of them caught the movement on the floor.

* * *

            Anise felt every muscle in her body go taut, ready for the inevitable. She felt relaxed, oddly, despite her physical condition, and knew Mrs Harker would end it soon.

            That was when she felt the blade that had been held to her chest thrust into her, and she gasped with the sudden overwhelming pain. She felt it slide into her body, the aim perfect. The blade was silver, she knew.

            She opened her eyes, and looked to Mina, Nemo, Skinner's jacket and Jekyll. Anise turned her gaze upon Tom, but there was no strength in her to utter a warning to him. He just stood staring at her with a kind of sadness and appreciation on his handsome face.

            Wishing she had waited just a moment longer, Anise felt her life bleed away once and for all.

* * *

            Tom closed his eyes, and lowered his head as Anise stopped moving and breathing, her head lolling forward in death. Though he felt deeply saddened, he understood it was what she had wanted, and sighed resolutely.

            Before he could move with Jekyll and Skinner to the door, he felt a hand grip him tightly and roughly by the arm and spin him. He came face-to-face with Evans, on his feet and breathing raggedly, but alive nevertheless.

            Tom's eyes went wide as the intent on Evans' face became clear, shortly before he felt the blade slip into him, knocking all the breath out of him. He glanced down to where Evans' bloody hand gripped the ornamental hilt of a squat dagger, before staring back into his face disbelievingly, seeing the maniacal grin on his smug face.

            "Now we're even, boy..." Evans rasped.

            Tom gasped for breath, suddenly struggling in the attempt, and swallowed dryly, still staring at Evans in amazement that the man was not dead. By all rights, he should be. 

            Mina was ripping Evans away from him madly in the blink of an eye, taking a hold of him chokingly by the throat and snarling in a rage. Did she know he wasn't a werewolf?

            Jekyll's hands went round Tom to stop him falling to the floor, and lowered him gently to the ground, trying to inspect the wound at the same time. Skinner knelt before him, cursing in shock.

            Mina held Evans by the throat, her eyes red with fury, her fangs elongated, and she looked back at Tom and the others wildly.

            Tom shook his head, and managed to say, "Human..."

            With a snarl, she turned back to Evans, and tore into him, biting down hard on his neck and drinking from him hungrily. The man uttered a short cry before choking and slumping to the ground, Mina still on top of him.

            Tom closed his eyes, trying to stay awake, hearing Jekyll bark an order to Skinner for him to swap positions. The invisible man did as he was told, and came round behind Tom to support him whilst Jekyll moved to look at the dagger. He mumbled something to himself, closed his eyes, and then opened them quickly.

            Mina and Nemo stood over them, the former still wiping the last traces of blood from her mouth. She had fed quickly. Nemo said, "Doctor?"

            "We need to get him back to the Nautilus," Jekyll told them, "now."

            Tom's focus was starting to fade, and he gritted his teeth as Skinner shifted against him, aggravating the blade where it protruded from his right side at the front. He trusted Jekyll and Mina... they would help him... or at least he hoped they would.

            Mina crouched down to the side of him, and looked him right in the eye, saying, "Stay awake, Tom. You'll be all right, do you hear me?"

            Tom tried to say something along the lines of 'of course I hear you', but no sound came from him. All he managed was a nod, and a slight groan as Skinner shuffled again.

            "Skinner, keep still!" Jekyll chided, and his hand went around the dagger's hilt. He looked Tom in the eye. Tom knew very well what he was going to do, and that it was going to hurt like hell. He clenched his jaw, and closed his eyes, ready for it.

            Jekyll tightened his grip, saying, "I'm sorry... we've got to get it out."

            Tom nodded; eyes still closed, and felt the doctor pull on the hilt of the dagger. The blade came free, and Tom managed to stifle some of the cry at least, cutting short what came from him loudly. Mina touched a hand to his arm.

            Dizziness and nausea overcame him suddenly, and as Skinner and Jekyll tried to help him to feet after the latter had covered the wound temporarily, Tom felt his grip on consciousness falter.

            "Doctor!" Nemo called, alerting Jekyll to the problem, even as he lunged forward to catch Tom as he fell.

            He remembered nothing else.


	31. The Best Policy

**A/N: **HAPPY NEW YEAR! Thanks for all the reviews. It was an awfully difficult decision I'd been battling with since day... four (?) about whether or not to kill off poor Anise. Well, I've been rather mean to poor Tom lately, haven't I? Not to mention you guys! Hanging there, I see... or hope, on the edges of your seats. Want to find out if I killed poor Sawyer or not... ;)

* * *

            Skinner paced in the large room, the table before him bare and ignored save for a simple vase of white flowers. He gave them little attention, and waited impatiently for some news of Sawyer. They had managed to carry him back to the Nautilus after he had passed out. Jekyll had seemed quite concerned, and Skinner could understand why... he had, after all, seen the dagger wound.

            "What's takin' them so long?" he asked of no one in particular. Only Nemo occupied the room with him, jotting something down in what looked like a log of sorts. Maybe it was a diary... Skinner didn't know, and right now he didn't care.

            "Patience is a virtue, Mr Skinner," was all the other man said, and it was with that same irritating calm that he always had about him.

            Skinner rolled his eyes behind his glasses, knowing that Nemo wouldn't have been able to see the action anyway, and continued, "Yeah, a virtue I don't have obviously. There should have been word by now!"

            "Mr Skinner," Nemo began, and stood from his writing, leaving the pen and the logbook on the table as he did so, "there is no need to panic. Dr Jekyll and Mrs Harker are perfectly capable, not to mention my own medical staff. Do not worry yourself with Mr Sawyer's condition."

            "You're tellin' me you're not concerned?" Skinner inquired at once, standing facing the Indian man now, fully aware of the tone that his voice carried... it was far from polite.

            Couldn't Nemo just show emotion for once? He was a bit like a blank artist's canvas, and it was starting to grate.

            "Of course I am concerned," Nemo replied immediately. "But there is no need to panic. I have faith in Jekyll and Harker, and my own doctors, not to mention Sawyer's will to survive."

            Skinner sighed. The man had a point... damn him.

* * *

            Henry let out a long sigh as he stepped out of the infirmary aboard the Nautilus, a cloth in his hands, which he was using to wipe them clean. He was filthy and dishevelled, and in good need of a wash and change of clothing.

            Mina Harker was waiting for him, her hair tied back roughly in a ponytail. She had left the room some time ago to give Henry the space he and the other doctors had needed. She turned at once upon seeing him.

            She did not need to speak, to ask questions. Her queries were all over her face, clearly illustrated in her blue eyes as she stared at him expectantly. 

            Henry sighed again, going to dab his forehead with the cloth before realising it was bloody. He hesitated, and tossed it aside, retrieving a fresh handkerchief from his pocket, and using that instead.

            He only realised he had not satisfied Mina's curiousity when she asked, "Well?"

            "Oh, my apologies," he mumbled with a forced smile. "We were lucky... _he_ was lucky."

            "He's going to be all right?" Mina looked like someone had just taken a great weight off her shoulders, as though she could finally breathe properly once more.

            "He'll be fine after a lot of rest and the correct care. Evans missed whatever he was aiming for anyway... nothing vital was hit." Jekyll's smile became genuine. Their young American friend was going to survive, and Edward was being pleasantly silent.

            Mina looked practically ecstatic now, and even laughed with relief. "Oh, thank goodness. I thought we had lost him for sure."

            "So did I for a minute there," Henry agreed, feeling very tired himself now. He saw the eager look on Mina's face, and added, "He's asleep now. You can see him later, Mrs Harker. He needs his rest."

            "Of course," she muttered in acknowledgement, "of course." She nodded for emphasis, and then persisted by saying, "We must inform the others. I expect they are awaiting word."

            Henry nodded, and accompanied her, no longer bothered by the state of his attire or self. They had seen him at his worst, and this most definitely was not it. He was fully dressed at least. He couldn't get the satisfied smile off his face that always arrived when he helped someone in one form or another. He had just saved a friend's life, with Mina's help of course, and there was a great swell of relief in the pit of his stomach.

            They arrived in the stately room they used daily for meals and meetings, and two sets of eyes turned to them at once. Skinner looked about ready to explode if he didn't hear some good news soon. Nemo, as always, looked strangely calm. He merely raised an eyebrow in anticipation of what they had to say.

            Skinner realised that the both of them were smiling and laughed quietly before exclaiming, "Thank god!"

            "I know the feeling," Mina acknowledged, and stepped further into the room, coming to stand beside the invisible man.

            Skinner was beaming now and looking to Henry, as if waiting for an explanation of their friend's condition.

            Clearing his throat, Henry said, "All we need worry about now is keeping him comfortable and the like." He paused to take in their expressions. He felt on show, and it was a little unnerving, but he pressed on nonetheless, "I- we..." he corrected remembering Mina's assistance and Nemo's doctors, "managed to stop the bleeding. Luckily Evans missed whatever his target was, and we just need to ensure we change his bandages regularly. Other than that, it's just as I said... keeping him comfortable."

            "Sawyer'll love that," Skinner chuckled. "Being in a hospital bed isn't far from being pampered, especially if your nurse is-"

            He received an elbow in the ribs for his troubles, but still laughed, relieved obviously. Mina gave him a reproachful look with half a smile on her lips and rolled her eyes. His light-hearted quips just showed he was comforted by the news Henry and Mina had provided. He was grateful a friend was going to be all right.

            Henry remembered what had happened at Evans' home then, and suddenly found himself concerned and asked himself, -even though Sawyer would recover in body- would he recover in mind? He had been through quite an ordeal... and seen Miss Delacroix -whom he had clearly cared for to some degree- die. There was an uncomfortable sensation in Henry's stomach once again, and he felt oddly guilty for leaving all of the bodies in that mansion. The authorities would no doubt investigate eventually, but he had to live with the knowledge that he had abandoned them.

            It wasn't his fault, or his problem; he knew... there was just always something about Henry that made him feel at fault in most situations that went rather... wrong. He worried for Sawyer then, and could not shake off the concern even as Nemo called for dinner to celebrate the wonderful news.

* * *

            It was quite a time before he managed to open his eyes, sore all over and finding himself in a completely different environment than when he had last been conscious. He was no longer in the generously furnished home of Charles Evans. He now found himself in a rather stark, white-walled room that could be nothing other than an infirmary. 

            When he felt the familiar shudders and slight quaking reverberating all around him in the bulkheads that surrounded his bed, he realised just which infirmary this was. The Nautilus. Jekyll and the others had brought him back to the submarine.

            Tom Sawyer tried to sit up in the slim bed, regretting it at once. His side burned madly, and he winced and hissed through clenched teeth, remembering the stab wound he had obviously survived.

            "Careful, Mr Sawyer," came a voice from the other side of the room. A figure emerged, and he realised just whom the voice belonged to. He chided himself for not instantly recognising their tone and words, for she was, after all, the only female on board. Mina Harker strode over to him, smiling pleasantly, and seated herself at his bedside, gently pushing him back down to the pillows as she did so. "You are far from healthy, and the doctor's orders are lots of bed rest and relaxation."

            Tom groaned quietly, and closed his eyes. How long had he been asleep for? He couldn't remember anything after collapsing against Nemo in Evans' home... Evans... he was dead. He wanted to smile, but found he couldn't.

            Anise... she had died as well, requested to be killed. His heart and everything else sank to the very pit of his being and he felt truly miserable. Surely they should have been able to do something for her. They had all this technology and advancement, and they had acted as though she was a lost cause.

            _Maybe she was_, he thought and sighed as heavily as he could manage. He felt bruised and battered all over, and his shoulder stung slightly from where he had been slashed with a knife. He could feel the generous bandaging around his stomach where Evans had attacked him with the dagger, and there was a dressing on his arm, though it was considerably smaller. The glass... he remembered now. 

            _I must look a mess_, he thought without humour, shaking his bangs of blonde tousled hair from his eyes and failing. He frowned and gave up, staring at the ceiling above him for lack of anything else to do.

            Tom only remembered his company when she spoke, saying, "How are you feeling? You've been unconscious for almost two days now. We were told by Henry to let you rest."

            His green eyes met her blue ones, and he tried to smile. He realised he must have failed by the expression that clouded over her face, something like regret. "I'm fine," he managed to mumble, and tried to identify the look on her beautiful features.

            "I am sorry, Tom," she said to him then, and lowered her gaze. "I know you cared for Miss Delacroix-"

            "She lied to me," Tom interrupted, and looked away, eager to change the subject.

            Mina seemed to sense his urge, and said to him, "You must be hungry, or thirsty at least. We should get you something to eat and drink, if Henry will allow it. I will be back shortly." She smiled at him briefly, and then stood to exit, leaving the door ajar as she went.

            Tom stared after her, and then grumbled, feeling too much like a helpless patient just lying flat on his back. There was a sort of headboard behind him for resting on, and ignoring the discomfort that rose up in him with the movement, he shuffled his pillows up and back, and sat up in a kind of half-slouch.

            _That's better_, he thought with a sigh, able to see the rest of the room effectively now. He held a hand to the blankets covering his side then, as it seemed to want to punish him for overexerting himself. Tom tried to ignore it, to no avail.

            It wasn't long before Mina returned, a small tray in her hands. He glanced to her and wondered why she was hanging around instead of Dr Jekyll fussing over him, checking he was still healthy and in the land of the living. Tom didn't really mind... it just confused him somewhat. Then again, there was very little about this whole situation that didn't confuse him.

            He had started to piece it all together when he had been locked in that cell, but had never really let it occur to him in full what it all meant. Anise had been the bait... that was obvious. Their meeting had not been by chance, and Evans had probably staged the whole thing, right from the assassins to the murders of world leaders, which had been the lure for the League.

            _How could we have been so stupid to fall for that? How could _I_ have been so stupid?_

            Tom wondered if everything would have gone exactly the same if it had been centred around Huck instead of him. What would have been his reaction in that situation? Would he have still fallen for Anise so blindly? He should have doubted her as Mina had, as he was sure at least one of the others must have as well.

            "Well, Henry assured me that you can safely eat things that won't upset your stomach too much," Mina was saying as she set the tray down near him. He wasn't hungry... he'd take whatever she'd brought him to drink though. His throat was unbearably dry. "I'm afraid you'll just have to settle for water for the time being." She smiled apologetically.

            Tom moved to shrug, but thought better of it. "That's fine," he muttered with very little effort, and accepted the glass of water from her. He drank some of it steadily, and handed her back the half-emptied beaker. She took it with a smile, apparently satisfied to see him on the road to recovery.

            "Are you hungry?" she asked, and he eyed the tray she had brought with her. It seemed she had raided the kitchens for the most bland and unappealing foodstuffs she could find. In a bowl there appeared to be some kind of soup or broth, and lying nearby was a banana.

            Tom shook his head. "Not really. Thanks though."

            "That's quite all right," she acknowledged politely and sat herself back down. "We were all worried about you for a while, you know. For a time we thought our numbers were going to drop once again."

            Why did she have to pick this topic? Why so morbid? He stared at his feet under the blankets, and remembered Evans' damn cane-sword catching him in the leg. That was going to hurt for a few days. 

            Mina had selected the most unwanted of discussions for him. He always felt partly, if not wholly, responsible for Allan Quatermain's demise back in M's Mongolian fortress, and Dorian Gray... well, that bothered him very little in truth. But it did always make him think of his childhood friend, Huckleberry Finn, whom he had always looked on like a brother of sorts. They had always had their fun together with their childish adventures. Right now, he could remember very little about the escapades themselves. He just recalled how his friend had always laughed at Tom's ridiculous jokes, and how he had always made him feel important and even marginally intelligent.

            "Are you all right?" Mina asked him gently, as though speaking louder would worsen his condition. She had obviously noticed the look of great melancholy that had swept over Tom's young face like a shroud, and was concerned.

            Tom glanced to her briefly, and sighed. "Yeah... I'm just thinking."

            "What about?"

            The look on her face was hard to deny. He couldn't just ignore her question. True, she had said harsh words recently, but hadn't he returned the favour rather unduly? 

            "There was something I didn't tell you about me and my reasons for chasing the Phantom," Tom divulged, and he could see the curiousity and perhaps even slight suspicion in Mina's eyes.

            With that, he started to tell her everything Anise had heard in his cabin, and she listened intently and with sincere compassion.


	32. Milestone

**A/N: **Nearly done now. Only one more chapter... I can't believe how long I've jabbered on for! My god! This has to be a personal record :) Anyway, thanks so much for all the reviews. There sure were a lot for these past two chapters :S Anyone would think you're ENJOYING it! :D Hehehehe. My thanks go out to all of you, anyway, I appreciate every single one.

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            A few days had slipped and trickled away like the waters of a rocky stream, passing without anyone really noticing the change. Everything went on as normal, and the churning and groaning of the Nautilus' mighty engines went unheard, a familiar noise to all, and somewhat soothing to some. Work continued as usual, people milling about their daily jobs as they would, helping one another and progressing nicely in their tasks without much complaint, if any.

            Rodney Skinner had spent much of the last few days in the library, trying to read, not really keen on doing anything else. He had discovered they had sailed out a few miles from New York though, far enough out so as not to be noticed, but not so distant if they wanted or needed to return quickly without delay. He doubted they would though. Their work seemed finished here. 

            Captain Nemo made his presence felt quite frequently on the bridge and in the engine rooms, checking everything was in order and going according to schedule, not that they were needed anywhere just yet. He had a feeling, though; that the accursed British Empire would call them sooner or later with a _real_ mission, not some façade as it had been with Evans. He suspected them of involvement, but then again he had never been a fan of their works.

            Henry Jekyll and his subdued alter ego, Edward Hyde, pottered about quietly and simply in the infirmary and his -or rather their- own quarters. He had never really been one for socialising, and out of meetings and meal times, he liked to be on his own, where he was most comfortable. His pocket watch was never far away though, hanging from its sturdy little gold chain from his waistcoat pocket. It was always close at hand when needed.

            Mina Harker was where she usually was, dabbling with her chemistry and running tests that only ever seemed important to her. Her mind ran constantly over the secrets her young friend had shared with her in confidence, and she felt saddened once again. She had never expected he had been through so much difficult turmoil, and pitied him, before stopping herself, and turning her attention back to her vials and beakers. 

            Tom Sawyer himself was starting to grow tired of the same old scenery, and he desperately wanted his freedom back. He had been allowed to hobble around the infirmary a few times, for what little good it did him, but at least he was permitted the oppurtunity to stretch his legs. He still ached all over, sore and thoroughly battered after his ordeal, but he tried to think of other things, failing miserably in almost every attempt.

            All in all, life on the Nautilus some few miles out to sea was ticking away rather uneventfully after the last week or so. Many things had happened, and now it seemed to have lulled rather peacefully. That was of course, save for the thoughts and troubles that raged internally in each and every single member of the League.

* * *

            It was nothing unusual that the members of the League gathered quietly for lunch the following Friday, but there was an empty space at their table that they had grown accustomed to over the past few days. The seat next to Henry Jekyll that was normally occupied by the young and optimistic Tom Sawyer was empty, cold and abandoned, and had been for some time. It was like he was gone forever, when in truth he was wasting the hours away down in the infirmary, recovering.

            Nemo had his usual place at the head of the grand table, sipping some brown tea in reflective silence, his usual blues and whites the colours of choice. His ornamental sword and scabbard hung unused at his side.

            Skinner was to the left of Nemo on the side of the table, opposite Jekyll. The long dark overcoat, the trilby and the glasses were the only things visible other than the white greasepaint that served to help the others identify his mood and intention. Of course, if the man so wished, he could come to dinner completely intangible, but he had _some_ manners at least, and chose to be seen. He made sure to cover all parts of his throat and the back of his head though, for he knew as well as the others that it was not pleasant to see the food and drink go down.

            Jekyll was absent of his black jacket this afternoon, and he wore dark braces that kept his trousers hoisted up around his waist. The sleeves on his white, somewhat ruffled shirt were pushed up loosely, the cuffs still buttoned so that they only just reached up to his elbows. He seemed to be hiding something in his expression, but he was giving nothing away as usual, good at keeping his secrets to himself.

            Mina sat to the left of Skinner, as always, and quietly ate her lunch. She had forgotten the name Nemo had given it, but it was actually one of the most appetising items she had sampled that were native to the man and his crew. She was pleasantly surprised. Mina couldn't help but frequently glance at Jekyll though, trying to decipher what he was hiding. She was dressed femininely in a long black skirt and petticoat with a white high-necked blouse to hide the scars on her otherwise flawless skin. She sipped her tea, thinking about her room and the unfinished experiment that waited for her there.

            Of course, having grown accustomed to their numbers being lower yet again as of late, even if only temporarily, all heads turned as one when the double doors to the dining room were pushed open, and a figure limped into the room somewhat meekly. He halted just past the threshold, and a hand went subconsciously it seemed to his wounded side, where they all knew a heavy bandage had been applied.

            Tom Sawyer looked a lot healthier today than they had seen him all week. There was a lot more colour in his face now, and he had regained some of his exterior confidence and attitude, although it was somewhat lulled now, suppressed. His blonde hair partially covered his right eye, slightly curled in locks as always, half blocking his vision of the room and its occupants. He was redressed in his familiar black trousers with braces hanging down unused at his legs, boots that were far beyond scuffed, a white shirt buttoned up to his chest with the sleeves rolled up just above his elbows, and a black waistcoat that may as well not have buttons, for the young man never made an attempt to fasten them. Green eyes scanned the faces, before landing on Jekyll with an apprehensive light to them.

            Henry smiled, and without even moving, beckoned the younger man forward.

            When Tom moved, it was clear he was in a little discomfort, understandably. He favoured his right leg, and moved with a slight limp. He tried to hide his wince as he seemed to overexert himself, but knowing that he wanted to do this small task himself, the League simply politely only half-watched him take his seat slowly, without offering to help him. He would only turn them down with that same all-American boyish smile.

            Jekyll offered him some tea, and Tom nodded, probably eager to get away from the bland water he had been offered time and time again in his recovery. He had needed to build up his fluids again, and hadn't been permitted to eat much other than soups, broths or soft fruits. Mina was certain he had hated that. Tom had quite a varied taste for food, and being stuck on those few simple, somewhat bland options must have near enough drove him mad.

            Even as the doctor was handing him the foods that he saw most suitable, Skinner spoke to Tom, saying, "Welcome back, Sawyer... it was getting a little difficult to be the only entertainment at the table."

            Tom smiled honestly, and thanked Jekyll for giving him the food on his plate, and he started to eat quietly and steadily. The others watched him discreetly in between bites of their own lunch and over the rims of their cups of tea.

            Either Tom hadn't noticed them watching, or he was ignoring them, for he made very little effort to acknowledge or challenge their observation. He simply seemed content to sit with them and eat food that had flavour, drink something with substance.

            When their eyes met across the table where they sat opposite one another, Mina smiled at Tom warmly, noticing with a pleasant sensation that he returned the friendly gesture. He had entrusted her with private information, and it seemed to have solidified something between them that had always been there, but never confirmed. They trusted one another, that was clear now, and it was apparent all previously spoken harsh words of petty insult from the past two weeks or more were forgotten, brushed aside in an instant.

            Mina was grateful. She had a good friend in Tom, she knew. She would have hated to lose that over a silly argument that none of them had really understood or believed in. From the way Tom acted, it was as though he hadn't cared for Anise Delacroix... but in her heart Mina knew he was trying to convince himself more than anyone. She had avoided bringing the subject up when it had been made clear on that first day since his regaining consciousness that Tom did not want to discuss the deceased Frenchwoman, and she respected that. Mina had no doubt he had been left in blissful silence internally to discuss and debate this with himself, for other than the obvious presence of Jekyll, the woman had been his only other visitor. Skinner and Nemo had truly taken the doctor's orders to let Tom rest to heart, and had steered clear of bothering him.

            But Mina knew that eventually, Tom would need to talk about all of it, even if he didn't realise this himself. It was unhealthy to let it all build up and fester inside, to let his anger and regret, not to mention other feelings, swell up inside of him until he couldn't take it anymore and he did something rash. 

            Making a promise to herself to make her concerns known, Mina went back to finishing her lunch. The others continued silently around her, and she was at ease.


	33. Whole Again

**A/N: **And this, my dear readers, is what we authors like to call 'The End'. This is the last chapter of Silver Bullet. *sigh* Can't believe it's over! I'd like to thank you for faithfully returning time and time again, and special thanks go out to MJ Rosemary, Graymoon74, Blueberrie, Sethoz, LotRseer3350, Mellaithwen-ElvenMaiden, Wolf-of-Black-Dawn, Silent Bob 546, and drowchild. Thank you to everyone else I haven't mentioned, and I hope you enjoy the last chapter. Thank you for bearing with me for these past couple of months, you've all been great, and helped me reach a brand new review record; over 200 reviews! *cries* WOW! :D

* * *

            The air of the Atlantic sea was naturally very refreshing, waves splashing against the side of the gigantic vessel as it sat stationary, its conning tower and topmost bulkheads exposed to the dazzling sunlight of the late afternoon. There were very few clouds in the sky, but those that lingered wisped and floated along steadily in the slight breeze that served only to whip Tom Sawyer's blonde hair about his eyes, ears and forehead. His waistcoat billowed slightly at his waist, his hands buried deep in his pockets, keeping the item of clothing from blowing about too freely.

            He was staring out with pensive green eyes at the soothing waters of the Atlantic, his thoughts running away with him, the events of late playing over and over in his mind, and he tried to figure out if there was anything he could have done differently to change the end result.

            So far, he hadn't thought of much. His memory seemed intent on confusing him, and when images replayed in his head, small details kept changing. He was already starting to forget the scent of Anise's perfume... not that it really mattered.

            She hadn't loved him. She had said she had, but... he knew it to be a lie. Something deep down inside of him seemed certain of this, and no matter how much he tried to think otherwise, he failed miserably.

            Though he ached all over still from his injuries, he had managed to make his way up here some two hours ago, and had barely shifted from his position in that time, most of his weight rested on his unscathed right leg. The left wasn't so painful now, but Jekyll had insisted he try to keep it rested as much as possible.

            Tom knew very well that he should be in his room, sleeping or taking it easy, but something about him made him just want to keep in motion, or at least keep his mind busy if nothing else. He hated just... sitting there, being useless.

            The only alert he had to company was the slight creaking as the hatch opened to permit exit onto the tower of the Nautilus, and without turning, he knew who had come.

            "Is something wrong, Mrs Harker?" he asked lightly, and when he listened to the sound of his own voice, he realised how hollow and dull it seemed. He kept his gaze firmly fixed on the ripples in the water as the sunlight gleamed off of it.

            "Nothing," came her gentle reply as she paced up to stand beside him, her arms behind her back, her long red scarf wrapped delicately around her neck and collar. It fluttered around her shoulders and back in the breeze, but still Tom's eyes did not waver from their stare out into the waves.

            The two of them stood silently in one another's company for many minutes, simply taking in the salty smell of the ocean around them, enjoying the warmth the rays of the sun provided, and it seemed the content of being in each other's presence.

            It wasn't long until Mina said, "Tom... you need to talk."

            "I've talked," he said calmly, closing his eyes and took a deep breath, raising his head slightly to let the sun shine on his face.

            He knew Mina was watching him without opening his eyes to confirm it. He heard her voice as she persisted, "You know what I mean. I'm here to listen if you want to talk."

            Still at ease with the sun on his face, Tom did not move as he replied, "And what is it you want to hear about?" He knew very well what she did mean, but was trying to avoid it. Why was she so insistent?

            But despite his apparent annoyance at this persistence, he did not move to stop as she reached up and tilted his face to hers. She eyed him quizzically, and he noticed then that there was a look of deep sorrow on her face.

            Why was she so sad? He was alive after all, wasn't he? What had depressed her so? It seemed to be contagious, as he felt a great swell of melancholy fill him, and he frowned.

            "Tom..." she began carefully, "you forget I've gotten to know you in our time spent together on this vessel." She seemed to be taking in every detail of his face, as he was with hers. "And despite all of this, you act as though I do not care for you... you try to push me away when I offer my help."

            "I-"

            She touched her fingertips to his lips gently to stop him from interrupting, as she continued, "I may not understand it, but until now, I have respected it. At first, as you said to me not long ago, I was cold and kept to myself. I stayed within my own quarters, talking to no one except Dorian Gray..." She growled his name as though it were dangerous before pressing on, "I realise now this was a mistake, and that if I had... 'socialised' more with you and the others, I may have been better equipped to speak this matter over with you before now."

            What was she getting at? Mina never spoke of anything without having a point, and Tom wondered what it was in this case, so he remained completely silent, simply listening to her as his hair flurried about his face.

            "What I'm trying to say is that I'm here for you, when no one else is, but if you want me to leave... I won't resist."

            Tom looked into her blue eyes for a long time, just waiting for her to continue, and when she didn't, he wasn't sure what to do. He couldn't stop staring, straight-faced and serious, and Mina turned to leave.

            She had almost reached the hatch when he called after her, eyes closed, "Wait..."

            Her body half-turned back to him, and her eyes met his face. She waited for him to persist.

            "I don't want you to leave," he said quietly, and opened his eyes to meet her gaze. He sighed deeply. "You're right." His hands came out of his pockets, and he turned back to face the rail, saying, "I pushed you away, and all you're trying to do is help me. It's not healthy for me to let it all build up inside."

            "It might help to talk about it," Mina offered and came up beside him again, and his hands rested on the railing in front of him. He knew she was right... she usually was. "You don't have to tell me everything, just the things you would like to discuss."

            Tom looked to her sidelong, and sighed again. Amazingly, the first thing that came out of his mouth when he opened it and spoke was, "I know she didn't really love me."

            "And who said she didn't?"

            Tom stared at her in amazement. He would have thought that she more than anyone would have appreciated him saying this out loud, admitting it to himself. She seemed to want to persuade him otherwise.

            "Just look at what she did... that wasn't love, that was outright betrayal. I trusted her, and she turned me over to Evans for..." he trailed off, exhaling loudly, and leaning against the rail, turning his back on it now. 

            Mina tilted her head slightly, only a fraction, and urged him to explain with a simple look in her eyes that he couldn't resist.

            "All of those people... they had been changed, most of them against their will, like Anise," he began, and as he spoke he became lost in his own words. "They were from different governments, different countries... and they all served their purpose, like I was supposed to. Evans wanted them for their information so he could use it against the countries he had learned about. Anise gave him the secrets of France, and he protected her and kept her alive in return. Apparently, that was how it happened with all of them."

            Mina was still watching him, that same expression on her face. She was listening intently, taking in every detail.

            "He said I was the last one," Tom continued with a heavy sigh as he closed his eyes again for a short time, "he told me that once I'd been changed into one of them, that I would have to tell him all the secrets I knew, or else he would turn me over to the authorities and reveal what I was. He'd let them do with me what they wanted."

            His companion did not seem very impressed with this, and she frowned.

            "Anise told me she had been the first, that Jacques had attacked her brutally, and left her to die. When they realised who and what she was, they decided they could use her knowledge. I suppose he planned to start some sort of inevitable war with all of the information he'd accumulated."

            "All information that died along with him," Mina reminded him with a certain sense of relief.

            "Maybe," Tom countered, turning to her slightly. "But how do we know he didn't keep it all somewhere? How do we know he didn't have any accomplices? He can't have been the only human in that place..."

            "He wasn't," Mina informed him, "his guards at the gates when we ambushed, and the men in the corridors... they were human. Needless to say, they did not last long when we arrived."

            Tom took little comfort in this revelation, and sighed heavily again. He twisted his body to look at her once more, but the action pained him, and he must have winced, for Mina had a hand on his shoulder at once, asking, "Are you all right? Do you need to sit down?"

            "I'm fine," he told her, and tried to smile. He shook his head. "I just need to be more careful how I move for a while."

            She smiled at him, and nodded, satisfied when he stood up straight again, looking out at the water once more. They descended into silence, the breeze whipping at them gently as they stood next to each other, mere inches apart, staring out at the sea.

            "She did love you," Mina said at last, and there was a distant edge to her voice that made Tom furrow his brow. "Her eyes..." She smiled. "Eyes never lie, Tom. I have learned over the years how to detect deceit and dishonesty, and I saw none in her eyes in those last few moments."

            Tom stared at her, and he felt a great swell of sorrow in him again. As he had told himself before, Mina knew what she was talking about... and she usually did. How could this be an exception?

            "Did you love her?"

            The question threw him for a moment, and he looked down at his feet, trying to think. "I don't know. I thought I did, but I'm not so certain anymore."

            "You said she saved your life when she could have easily taken it."

            "But that doesn't mean I loved her for it," Tom said quietly, "it just meant that I felt she'd tried to redeem herself." He paused, sighing angrily more than anything. "I've never been in love... how am I supposed to know?"

            "Usually one realises too late that they are in love." Mina was staring out at the horizon as she said this, and there was a longing in her words that made him feel worse.

            "When I was with her, I felt happy... safe for a while," Tom told her, knowing she was dwelling on thoughts of Dorian Gray. He wanted to distract her from the treachery and hurt. He wasn't so sure that reminding her of his own pain was such a good remedy, but he tried nevertheless. "She made me feel important, like Huck had, and Allan."

            "Tom, what gave you the impression that you weren't important?"

            He shrugged lightly. It was just how he'd always felt. "Certain people make me feel differently. I'm usually an optimist... at least I was when I joined the League, but now I'm not so sure of that either."

            She touched his arm, a gentle brush of affection that warmed him slightly. 

            "All that seems to happen lately is..." he trailed off, not knowing how to end without it sounding like the most depressing thing he had ever heard. At a loss, he simply said, "People keep dying."

            Mina took in a deep, long breath, and let it out slowly in pensive mourning. It was clear she knew what he was talking about. Huckleberry Finn; Allan Quatermain; Anise, and in her case, Dorian Gray... though Tom wasn't sure they had ever been that close. She always seemed angered and saddened by it though.

            "I guess I just need time to let it all sink in, to realise that the world isn't going to end," he said finally with a smile aimed at her. He was putting on his all-American brave face again, and this time, it came a little easier.

            Mina nodded, touching a hand this time to his faintly bruised face softly, smiling at him. "I'll be here to help you. Don't hesitate to ask."

            It was Tom's turn to nod, and he thought he saw something in her expression that told him she might have embraced him then, were it not for his injuries. He was almost regretful that she didn't. He didn't want sympathy or compassion as such... he just wanted guidance and understanding. He had lost that when Quatermain had died. It seemed now that Mina wished to take this role, although she brought it something else... something that no man could provide.

            Tom wasn't sure what it was, and he didn't dare dwell on it lest he ruin the moment they were sharing. He had never been this close to someone seriously before, when there wasn't imminent threat of betrayal, hurt or anguish. 

            Even as the waves lapped against the Nautilus again, and all seemed said and done, Tom finally managed, "I think I may have loved Anise... not as much as I could have, but I think I did."

            Mina said nothing, but simply stood beside him. Everything fell quiet and still, and there was something in the air now that relaxed. Whether or not it was the fact that Tom had managed to get a lot off his chest, or whether he just felt at ease in Mina's soothing presence, he supposed he might never know. But still, he did not argue that he felt better for saying all that he had, that Mina had been right in saying she was here for him when no one else had been. That was a huge comfort and relief in itself.

            How the sun set without either noticing was a mystery on its own, but somehow the hours just seemed to melt away as the two stood there comforting one another with their mere presence, not saying a word, nothing else to say. 

            For the first time since the death of Allan Quatermain, all those months ago in that dreary Mongolian fortress, both Mina Harker and Tom Sawyer were at ease.

            They knew it would not be long before something else troubled, and they were called upon to help, but amazingly neither was ailed by this fact. They knew they would be able to face it head on. They would get through it, as they had other problems before now, like the one that had most recently threatened.

            Special Agent Tom Sawyer planned on being around to help for a long time to come. And he planned to have the rest of the League right behind him.


End file.
